


The mortifying ordeal of being known (and the reward of being loved)

by vuas



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, The skywalkers are Jewish and I will die on that hill, Tropes used instead of actual writing skills, and they were ROOMATES (neighbors), no beta we die like men, slight pregnancy kink, soft dumbassery, the author has a complicated relationship with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: The omega in apartment 7b was going to pose a problem.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 641
Kudos: 2786





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Me, kick flips on my razor scooter past the amazing, heartfelt fix-it tros fics: I love garbage

  
Ben’s hands curl into fists at his sides, unable to contain the energy rippling through him that demands he break down the door of 7b and find the source of that lovely, aching scent and _drown_ himself in it.

But she’d never get her security deposit back. She’d be upset. She wouldn’t be safe with a broken door.

So instead—highly restrained; he raps his knuckles three times on the grained wood and forces his arm down. “It’s me,” he rasps, his voice sounding rough and foreign.

He listens to the blood rushing through his head, his world narrowed down to the soft sounds of the omega, _his_ omega, coming closer—he could imagine it; the rumpled shirt, messy hair, soft skin—and yet;

It’s so much better than he could ever hope to imagine when she opens the door, and a thick wave of heat rolls out that threatens to tear them both to pieces.

* * *

Rey’s first heat had come late, at seventeen. She had dreamed about it shyly for years, this sacred, special thing that would make her a real omega rather than some child, imagining that once she had experienced it, her whole life would start to finally make sense—turns out, she was _very_ wrong.

She hates it—the awful cramps for days before, the mindless nesting that was never right, the sniveling, whimpering noises as she tried with increasing desperation to sate the horrible emptiness in her belly. The soreness for days after, ruined sheets—

And more than anything, she hated the loss of control over something as integral as herself.

There are ways, of course, to cheat the system. Usually unmated omegas her age were encouraged to take suppressants designed to give you a heat three times a year—to sweat out the buildup of suppressants in one’s system. And that’s what the doctor had prescribed for Rey—three hundred and fifty pills. Almost enough for one year of suppressants with wiggle room for the fifteen or so days she’d need for her scheduled heats.

And that’s what the _other_ doctor had prescribed her too.

It wasn’t illegal— _very minor fraud_ ; more like a harmless lie, Rey decided when she collected her second bottle from the drugstore. It was her body; her choice to do this. It was better this way, without having to go through the psychological examination waiver for the extra pills to prove to somebody who hardly knew her that she was capable of making decisions about her sexual health. It was safe, of course. Mostly.

The minor nausea, the occasional headaches, the trouble keeping weight on; it was fine, a price to pay for her choice. She’d rather be stuffed full of suppressants year round than mewling helplessly in somebody’s bed, stuffed with a knot. God forbid _bonded_ with them.

There’s the second crux of the problem; Rey could hardly imagine trusting anyone enough to want to go through something so intimate; to have them see her at her lowest. It was everything that Rey wasn’t: needy, vulnerable, and most of all dependent on someone else.

She wouldn’t be able to survive it. Being seen like that. She’d spent so long cultivating an existence on her own that it no longer seemed possible to immerse herself in someone else. A child’s foolish fantasy; to be cared for unrelentingly.

And still, she thought, as she struggled alone to unload another moving box in the lobby of her new apartment building; the fantasy never _really_ goes away.

* * *

He’s furious—soaking wet hair sticking uncomfortably to his collar, dripping from every neat line of his coat. Hux had done it again, the imbecile; Ben had walked out of the meeting as soon as it had wrapped up, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to strangle the redhead’s skinny neck. Third quarter reports had been a disaster, missing calculations and too many manual changes; nearly everything had been flagged for edits, and they were due tomorrow to the controllers office. The audit for next Friday couldn’t be pushed back either. Hux owes him one free sucker punch, or at least a case of whiskey for all the time he’s going to have to spend fixing this up overnight.

Also, he is a _tiny_ bit afraid of having to call his mother and cancel Seder dinner; no doubt which she would take personal offense to, taking him to task about standing up the flavor of the week omega from Synagogue she inevitably invites in the hopes of a, quote, “ _boatload of grandchildren with his cute ears_ ”.

He had snarled at the valet kid who had jumped up to go get his car from the garage; he wouldn’t need it. This type of anger wouldn’t do well to be contained by an expensive vehicle. He stomped into the rain and walked the twenty or so blocks home, fuming.

He should’ve gone down to the riverfront and screamed at the bay—his anger isn’t even slightly abated by the time his building is in sight; and he feels something ugly tear up when he sees someone in a too thin coat is clogging the lobby with moving boxes—he rips open the door and opens his mouth to tell them in so many words that they’d do well to be more courteous to new neighbors—

A too-thin girl yelps—the displaced air from the door Ben’s just opened causes a tumble from a precarious tower of boxes—the girl nearly elbows him trying to save it but trips on threshold; he scoops her around the middle and pulls her back from falling, close to his chest, while simultaneously throwing out his arm to catch the edge of the cardboard with his fingertips.

The girl immediately squirms in his arms, letting out a small indignant noise—and that’s when—

_There’s nothing like it_ , his mother had said. _Even though he was a brash, cocky, infuriating man, the moment I could_ _smell him, I just knew—I don’t know how, of course_ —and she had smiled, looking girlish enough that Ben had gagged— _but there would never be anyone else in my lifetime—_

He opens his mouth ( _mistake_ ) and scents the ever loving fuck out of a stranger ( _horrible mistake_ ) that he is still holding trapped against him ( _worst case scenario, really)._

“Fuck” he grunts, because—

“You’re bleeding!” 

The girl sounds horrified, but his spine electrifies at the sound—lyrical and soft and his, somehow. And his arm is stuck around her waist, quite literally he cannot relax enough to put her down, and every alarm bell in his body is going off because something is so, _so_ wrong with how he’s acting—

She says something else but he can’t for the life of him make it out, because she’s cranned around to peer up at him with sweet hazel eyes and he has never, never realized what he’s needed before now.

“I have bandaids—in one of these—“ she untangles herself from him with determination, and he does not— _does not—_ whimper at the loss of her warm little body pressed against his.

“For what?” He says (stupid) because he’s staring straight at his hand—it is bleeding a bit, he must’ve sliced it on a sharp edge of cardboard. Except it doesn’t make sense—it’s all happening too fast—is the room spinning? Or perhaps someone’s turned gravity off?

She gets on her knees (fuck) and rifles through one box labeled bathroom in sharpie. “Don’t worry—“ she says frantically, digging to the bottom. “Maybe put some pressure on it so you don’t bleed all over— oh god, this is all my fault—“

He does ( _his omega is good. Very smart, he decides_ ) rather helplessly, feeling quite a lot like he needs to sit down, or perhaps throw her over his shoulder and tuck her into his room and make sure she’s warm and safe and happy forever, as long as she keeps talking to him with that wonderful, beautiful—

“See?” She says, coming back towards him (oh dear, she really was very pretty—and she smelled—she smelled like—) with an antiseptic wipe and a bandage, ripping open the former with her teeth, and he really, really shouldn’t have looked because now he can’t stop looking at her mouth—pink and ripe and sweet—

“All done,” she says with a small smile, curling her fingertips (tiny hands, half the size of his own, why was she so _small_ —) over his. “Sorry again.”

His voice sounds foreign, and he has to clear his throat to speak: “Thank you—Miss?” Because he has to know. He shouldn’t—he shouldn’t even bother, because this girl is everything and he’s been nobody for so long that he has no chance, but he just needs to know for once—something pure and good.

“Just Rey,” and she smiles. “I’m in 7b.”

Oh.

_No_. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year let’s set up some stuff in this chapter!!

  
The stranger leaves in a whirlwind much the same as he came in; there’s a small moment where she locks eyes with him after bandaging up his small cut and realizes that he’s looking at her with an intensity that makes her neck prickle.

The thing is—he smells _good_. They’ve been in close proximity for less than a minute, and Rey doesn’t think she’s ever scented an Alpha like this. It has her almost wanting—on the verge of—

She’s realizes when his eyes flick down between him that she’s touching his bare hand; the skin to skin contact makes her shiver.

“You need to be on suppressants. _Now_.” His eyes are incredibly dark. 

Rey’s head cracks up, gaping at him like a fish. The _nerve_ —

( _His voice is deep and it hurts but she snatches her hand back, putting distance between them. It hurts, she thinks. Why does it hurt? She should say yes, alpha, and be good for him, do what he needs, anything, anything at all—_ )

But Rey is still Rey, so she sees red and tries not to kick his ass. “No need to be an asshole,” she hisses at him between a clenched jaw. “That’s incredibly rude of you to say—and for your information, I already _am_. Maybe there’s something wrong with _you_.” She pokes him in the chest.

Typical, she thinks, when the alpha doesn’t relent. Instead he leans forward, grabbing her hand, encroaching on her space, making himself look big, crowding her in against the wall. “This isn’t a joke—you can’t live in 7b and not be on suppressants.” He squeezes her fingers, and the firmness behind it is startling.

Rey feels lightheaded—he’s too close, and she can’t breathe in anything other than him ( _spiced and alluring, it makes her want to curl up and sleep for days_ —) “I..” and her voice trails off for a moment because it’s hard to latch onto one single thought other than _alpha_. “I’m not joking.” She huffs, and yanks her hand back, turning away. “What is your problem, anyway?”

He stumbles back and Rey would think he was drunk with how he moves, as if he’s disoriented beyond belief. 

He blinks for a few small moments, and Rey sees his mouth clamp shut. _He’s trying not to smell you_ , and the realization makes her go pink. It was embarrassing that somebody could think she smelled so bad that they couldn’t stand it. But it hardly surprised her—she was just Rey, she had never been—never been anybody’s. It was startlingly apparent why. It was her. She had never been good enough for anyone, and now even a stranger could sense that.

“Because—I’m in 7c.” And he looks mad about it, the slope of his mouth trembling, his eyes hard.

And Rey feels tears prickle even though today was supposed to be a good day. A new start, a place of her own, paid for with the inheritance of a long-lost relative. A new job at a place with kind faces— and still this muck, clinging to her as it has her whole life. And now a stranger was going to watch her cry, like she was some pitiful, helpless omega—

“Wait—don’t—“ he reaches out towards her again but Rey pulls away, and then it’s his face, strangely earnest, as if he had done some mental calculation. “Its alright—I would never—or, or, anything like that, you’ll be safe here—“ and Rey gets the distinct feeling that his mind is moving too quickly because she’s not following—“let me help you with the boxes.”

“No,” she says hollowly. “You were in a rush.” She swallows. “I can do it on my own.”

He licks his lips, and Rey watches him hover for one last moment. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Of course—I upset you. Sorry, I’m always—“ he cuts himself off and sighs, looking elsewhere. “I’m Ben. Next door if you need anything.”

She can’t be mad at him—it’s not really his fault she stinks, even if the outright rejection stings a little. “Okay, Ben-next-door.”

And then he’s gone, through the stairwell door, taking all the air in the room with him

* * *

_This is bad_ , he thinks, taking the steps two at a time. _And it’s going to get worse._

He doesn’t breathe again until he makes it to his floor, and sure enough—7b’s door is propped open and a few boxes are already stacked inside. Her scent wafts freely into the hallway, and for one, terrifying moment he thinks to grab something— _anything_ from one of those boxes and hoard it in his room. 

He slams his door shut much harder than necessary, taking several deep breaths. Perhaps he’s hallucinated the whole thing—

He peers out the keyhole, where 7b stands like a silent sentinel of his own personal doom.

It’s his godamned coat, surely, where she had brushed against it. That’s what’s driving him nuts. He’ll get it dry cleaned and this whole nasty business of him sticking his foot in his mouth would be over. He’d made her cry, for the love of god, and no wonder— he’d been a jerk. Manhandling her, demanding to know about her suppressants, almost yelling at the poor girl while she was just trying to move in.

It’s just—those first few minutes had felt like they meant something. It had been new and heavy and he’d been scared, of all things.

He takes off his coat and shoves it in the back of his closet. No wonder all those poor omegas his mother had been bullying into meeting him hadn’t stuck. It was like kismet—he was destined to be with somebody else. Rey in 7b.

Who, currently, doesn’t seem to like him very much.

Destiny, he thinks sourly, is very stupid. It wasn’t as if Ben possessed the practical knowledge necessary to woo an omega as sweet as Rey. Of course, perhaps this was his penance—live out the rest of his days watching the perfect girl next door, remembering the feel of her lithe body pressed against his, the warmth of her calloused hands, her shy smile that made her cheeks puff up, bright and happy.

Yeah, that seemed about his luck.

Ben sighs and rubs his temples—he shucks off the rest of his clothes, has a unsatisfying wank in the shower to take the edge off (his body still cagey from the pheromones), leaves his mother an apologetic voicemail, and then sits in his office and does what Ben Solo does best: buries himself in work so deep that he won’t have time to feel.

* * *

Rey is sweating by the time she moves the last box in; she collapses onto a kitchen chair and texts Rose again to thank her for covering her shift at the shop. Her phone chirps when rose replies and Rey smiles.

It would be fun to commiserate with somebody about the day but Finn is out of town and Poe must be busy, because he doesn’t respond to her text. That’s alright—she’ll have a glass of wine and unpack her sheets. Rey grabs a box labeled “bedding” and carries it into the bedroom.

Rey sighs happily—she has yet to put up curtains and she can see the city skyline in the distance, twinkling lights blinking back at her. If someone had told her a few months ago that she’d be living like this, Rey would have punched them. 

A man had walked into her foster home with a thick envelope that contained information that she had only dreamed about—her parents, a photograph of them, smiling for the camera with an infant between them. 

After a brief DNA test and a few signatures, Rey had been named the heir to a vast estate—her grandfather had recently passed away and someone had retrieved the identity of Rey from the depths of his will.

Now, she was essentially set for as long as she needed to be. She had asked only for a down payment on a new apartment and some spending money for groceries and perhaps new work coveralls. The solicitors in charge of the trust had seemed to think she was joking.

And she had felt out of her depth while touring—clean floors, a working elevator and not a single pest anywhere. The other residents dressed like they had somewhere to go—fancy coats, pretty purses, shined shoes—

_Well off_ , Rey thinks, wondering about the strange alpha in the lobby who seemed to dislike her so much. Him too—perhaps he’d been in a bad mood because his nice coat had gotten ruined in the rain.

Rey popped the cork on a bottle and poured a glass of cool white wine, downing it in a few minutes. It was quiet here—peaceful. No noisy neighbors, high above traffic. She smiles despite everything, thinking of what the alpha had said. You’ll be safe here. He was right.

* * *

Rey falls asleep in a fortress of pillows. Or—she tries to.

Instead, her brain keeps conjuring up images of her next door neighbor that make her shiver—and suddenly—despite burrowing deeper into the blankets, it’s frustratingly not _enough_. She doesn’t understand—she needs something else.

Of course she had smelled terrible to him. It was her lot in life—because even though Rey’s senses would be dulled over by the suppressants, and being on them for so long meant the effect had been exponential—he had smelled delicious, despite all that. The more she thought about it; she hadn’t had a reaction like this in years. And it didn’t help that he was tall and broad and crookedly handsome, and obviously strong, going by the way he’d scooped her up as if she weighed as much as a sack of flour. He could toss her around if he wanted, bend her however—

Rey huffs and sits up, staring between her legs. Irritated because of all things, she’s wet with slick. Her stupid body doesn’t know the difference—it had been...exciting, perhaps, to be in such close proximity to raw pheromones. Even if they had been attached to a jerk.

She sighs and flops back—she’ll need to get it over with, now that she’s so worked up about it. Something uncurls under her skin, and she closes her eyes and rolls over onto her belly, slipping a hand between her thighs.

She huffs, shimmies her underwear down and pauses, feeling exposed, despite being alone in her room. She presses her face down and hikes one arm up so she can stroke the back of her neck—the glands there are swollen and sensitive, even hours after seeing him. Rey lets out a little keen when she _squeezes_ —

And the noise she makes when she traces over her clit—the noise she’d make if _he_ was the one holding her down—

Rey flushes all over. _Inappropriate_ , she scolds herself—she’ll have to look him in the eye eventually, on the elevator, in the lobby, in the hallway—

_He’ll know what I’ve done,_ Rey gasps, her hips working to get her closer. _Alpha will know, and he’ll be pleased. He likes it when his pretty omega spreads her legs—getting ready for his knot—_

Rey cries out just as she crests over, her fingers working furiously against her center—it almost hurts, how hard her cunt clenches around nothing at all—and then it’s over, her body sated for now. She shivers and pulls the blankets back up around her and lines a blockade of pillows at her back, almost as if someone was asleep behind her.

And Rey drifts off, wondering about the man in 7c. _You’ll be safe here_.

* * *

  
Ben’s hands have lost feeling at this point, with how hard he’s clenched them, nearly tearing the sheets.

Because—and he can’t be sure, _exactly_ what she’s doing, but it makes his spine stiffen—

He can smell her. Except, it’s different. Sweeter. Deeper. Ben glares daggers at the vent, where the smell is pulsing into his bedroom. Just one solid wall separates them—and if he concentrates, he can almost hear it: soft, desperate sounds she’s making into the night, curled up in her bed.

This is going to be a _disaster_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on tumblr at toutlevin if you want to commiserate with garbage ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredible 2020 miracle: vuas writes a chapter that is actually more angst-fluff than explicit smut

  
Rey never wakes up late—she’s a well oiled machine, always up and out the door with a cup of coffee and her lunch packed, hat and gloves in her backpack, marching into the world determined to have an excellent day.

Or, _Dream-Rey_ is doing exactly that when Real-Rey snaps open her eyes and violently sits up with a startled gasp—her alarm is steadily going off beside the bed and it is _way_ too bright out for it to be seven thirty, she realizes with increasing panic—she dives across the pillow demarcation line to grab her phone and uses some choice words when she reads the time; she has approximately 2 minutes before she needs to be out the door.

Exactly two minutes later, she has a mouthful of toast and only one shoe on as she fumbles into the hallway with her keys to lock the door, and her hands are shaking from the adrenaline—Han at the shop wouldn’t be mad, of course (he showed up late half the time himself) but it was ingrained in her for the years she’d toiled under Plutt’s salvage yard—and _why wouldn’t the damn thing budge_ —

“You have to turn the deadbolt to the left.”

Rey yelps, nearly knocking into Ben ( _stupid tree takes up half the narrow hallway, and she’d know that voice anywhere now that she spent a weekend fantasizing about him_ ) and she opens her mouth to say something mean about sneaking up on her —except the toast falls out and onto the floor. Rey groans, looking at the sad remains of her breakfast scattered in a dusting of crumbs.

“I’m late for work,” she bemoans to him, locking the door ( _finally_ ) and bending down to pick up what’s left of her toast and scoop it into the bottom of her bag so she can toss it later. “Slept straight through my alarm, I don’t even know why because I slept so well—“

“You did?” Rey looks up at him and yes, he’s still the horribly attractive man he was last week. The audacity of him to wear a clean cut suit, and come out into her hallway smelling like the only alpha in the world. Right now he looks like he’s having a private joke with himself because if she looks closely, the corners of his mouth are ever so slightly quirked. 

“Please tell me you’re not hopping all the way there on one leg?”

Rey looks down at her feet—one in her work boot and the other a pink polka dot sock. 

“Oh,” she says, fumbling with her tote, “don’t worry—I have the other one here. The zipper is kind of fussy so I was going to put it on in the elevator to save time.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding, the movement bouncing his hair over his collar. Rey swears he’s almost smiling, but he looks...sad. “Efficient. Smart girl,” he continues, looking down at her, turning to press the call button.

_Say it again_ , her hindbrain hisses, and _oh_ —the full force of exactly what she’s done each night since she’s moved in hits her in the chest; she can feel her heart start ticking faster, the blood rushing to her face. She needs to move, except she can’t; frozen with the memory of how good it had felt—she had made herself _come_ to the mere thought of him as her alpha—

And worst of all, his voice seems to have stirred a response from her cunt, already so attuned to Ben calling her, of all the omegas in the world—his girl; Rey, horrified, feels slick drip out of her—

“Are you coming?” He asks, holding the elevator. It’s a bad idea—enclosed space, with this terror of a man who has no idea, the awful things he’s doing to her body. 

“Yes!” She squeaks.

* * *

He doesn’t know how to feel when he steps into the hallway on Monday and has to confront the fact that Rey was not actually a fever dream—she’s attempting to lock her door but instead she’s letting out various noises of exertion and getting nowhere. He should turn around and go back into his apartment and hide from the girl who’s been sending him halfway to a rut all weekend, but she’s looking increasingly frazzled, and he can’t leave her out there alone, struggling—

And now he’s signed his own death certificate. _Yes please, little omega whom I have a snowballs chance in hell with; get into this small, slow, elevator with me so I can torture myself by scenting_ _you like a creep for two minutes. I will carry it with me to work so I can spend half the day fantasizing about touching you, about forcing you to make those little noises I heard in your bedroom—_

He should’ve taken the stairs.

Because—and he wants to cry, almost—Rey smells like sleep and linen and toothpaste. She smells lived in, as if he’d rolled her out of bed himself. 

She’s now fumbling with her shoe, taking up a lot of space for someone who’s awfully small, and _what_ is it with her and almost elbowing him in the face? 

“Thanks,” she says , turning brightly to him. “About the deadbolt.” Her cheeks are oddly pink—those coveralls must be warm. “I was thinking this weekend—we got off on the wrong foot.”

“I thought it was spectacular.”

“Ha _ha_.” She wrinkles her nose at him, and Ben is fairly sure his heart stops. “You were right to tell me about the—suppressant thing. I guess—you were being responsible and I took it the wrong way.”

“I,” he swallows “could’ve been nicer about it.” This elevator was getting smaller by the second. “It seemed urgent, at the time. I was...blindsided. You know how it is.” He licks his lips and he swears to god that he can taste her in the fucking air.

“Oh,” she says, in a very small voice, suddenly looking away from him. She changes the subject and Ben deflates a little, that familiar sadness roaring in his ears. “Is...is your hand better?”

“Of course,” he says, pulling it from his coat pocket—all that remains is a little pink line—

That Rey immediately reaches out to touch and _no, he doesn’t choke on his own spit, thank you, at a girl touching his hand_. He was happened to be clearing his throat at the same time. If anyone asks.

“Good!” She chirps, one small fingertip tracing along his palm, turning his hand a bit so she can see it from a different angle. “I was a bit worried—“

_Don’t worry,_ his hindbrain thinks. _I’m strong, look how strong I am, wouldn’t you like to have pretty babies with someone as strong as me?_

_It’s a glorified paper cut_ , his forebrain points out.

“—that you were mad at me.”

She lets go of his hand and Ben is lost in an instant—the space between them now unbearable. He should hit the button for seven and drag her back to his room and ply her with soft blankets and food until she’s happy, and then he should push her on her belly and fuck his come into her until she sobs his name.

His ears go pink. _Good god, get a hold of yourself._

“Rey,” he says, as softly as he can for his pretty omega. “I could never be mad at you.” He gathers the courage to look into her sweet eyes and finds—something there. He’s sure of it.

The elevator dings.

* * *

The snow is starting to fall by the time Rey makes it to the body shop, greeting Han and Chewie who are sitting with coffee over some schematics. 

“Glad you’re here!” Yells Han over the shrieking of power tools elsewhere in the garage—someone else is here with an early start. “Take a look at this!”

Rey pads around the workbench with a grin. “These look ancient!” She laughs, skimming over the paper blueprints of a ‘79 Falcon. “Where did you find them?”

“When you brought in that clunker I knew we didn’t have a chance unless we could find the originals—you’re spoiled by the internet, where you can find the answers to anything made in last few years in three-dee—“ he teases. “This is how we used to do it. I sent Chewie out to a car show last weekend where he put a wanted ad up to see if anyone still had a copy laying around—sure enough, some corellian enthusiast did.”

Rey can’t wipe the smile off her face; she walks over to where the Falcon sits under a dust cover and lifts it carefully, peering at the leather interior, the old blue paint still valiantly glimmering in the garage lights.

“A piece of junk but she’s got good bones,” Han says, slapping the hood for good measure. Just like he did when Rey first towed it in from auction. 

“Did your move go alright? Any nosy neighbors that Chewie needs to knock off?”

“It was fine,” she says, blushing. The words tumble out, and Rey hasn’t realized before now that there’s some sudden shift in her bones that needs to be acknowledged, though the exact point she can’t determine. “Better than I expected, actually. I’ve only met the alpha across the hall, and he seems alright.”

More than alright—she had been glad it was freezing out because she’d been sweating from just a few moments alone in an elevator with him. 

“Well, that’s good. We were a bit worried about you—doing it all alone.”

_Yeah_ , Rey thinks. _Me too, now more than ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toutlevin on tumblr! I’m just as annoying there as on here!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, banging pots and pans: wake up hoes it’s time to sin

The snow is coming down in a torrent by closing time, and Rey is delighted to watch it scatter gracefully into the city streets, transforming them into a place that’s quieter, softer than before. Chewie says something about offering her a ride but Rey waves him off—she needs to clear her head a little, and the sting of cold air felt soothing.

Her apartment had felt so strange all weekend—like she’d been drugged, almost. Perhaps it was just the euphoria of having a space that was completely safe and her own—but she had slept like the dead. When she was awake, she only had the energy to lay in bed with tea and a book. It was fine; moving was stressful and she had carried all those boxes on her own. It made sense that she was exhausted. 

She sniffed. She deserved to relax, just this once.

It didn’t help that as the weekend had worn on, she had become increasingly aware of the alpha next door—she was imagining it, of course; as if his scent could permeate the walls separating them. But sometimes she’d pause—in the bedroom, or the kitchen, and get a faint remnant of it. Rey would blink and realize that entire minutes had passed with her leaning over the counter, puffing frantic breaths, tensing her thighs and squirming: confused and frustrated.

The thing was—Rey had never _exactly_ gotten laid before. She wasn’t embarrassed by it; the right person hadn’t come along yet, and that was fine by her. They’d probably never come along, at this rate. Rey wasn’t going to waste her time pining after alphas who would drop her the moment they got off—but she was twenty-one, so of course her body was a little hormone driven. It was normal. And she knew how to take care of herself: a glass of wine, a warm shower, and the internet had everything she needed.

Almost. 

Even in the cold, she’s sweating, just like she had in bed, furiously trying to fulfill the strange emptiness in her cunt. And it was _him_ , even though she desperately didn’t want it to be— _good girl, smart girl, come on, you can do it—_ his firm hand on her neck, helping her arch her back _. So pretty, my little omega. Look how sweetly you beg for me to fill you. How many pretty babies will you give me?_

_It’s just because he’s tall_ , she thinks, irritated. She’s weak—one guy over six foot touches her and then she spends all weekend with her fingers stuffed inside her wet cunt.

The snow blows harder now, bringing her out of her head—Rey trudges along the sidewalk, her boots sliding just a little on the ice. She’s seen worse, and sure, her teeth won’t stop chattering but it’s just twenty minutes more—

She yelps as a particularly bad step makes one foot, and then the other slip out from underneath her—Rey throws out her hands to catch herself even though she knows the frozen concrete will be a nasty hit. She lands on her ass, thank god, instead of going face first. A little jarred, she tries to get back up.

“Rey!”

The wind is blowing so hard that she shakes her head—and now she’s imagining him calling her name, stupid, foolish pining, and her face burns in embarrassment. Just one person to care—

“Rey! What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

Her head whips—it sounds real—because the car that’s pulled up beside her contains a familiar face. 

And he looks furious. “Get in the car.”

“What? No!”

“It’s a fucking blizzard—what is wrong with you? _Get in the godamned car!_ ” 

_Alpha says get in the car_.

She scrambles up to comply—“ _Don’t_.” her hand reaches for the handle and yanks—Alpha wants her to be safe—“ _Use_.”—she throws in her tote and climbs inside the car, shivering—“ _That. On. Me._ ” She bares her teeth at him, spitting mad, trying to death glare him into the next dimension. “You’re not _my_ alpha!”

_I did what you wanted, see? I can be good. I can behave for you_. It feels delicious, to have followed orders—her whole body flexing in delight, like her blood has been replaced with sunshine.

It’s a command—usually used by Alphas to quell anxious Omegas mates, or to corral unruly children. And sometimes by courting couples—it’s biologically pleasant to follow orders, physiologically rewarding.

He rolls his eyes and lunges towards her, and for a terrified moment Rey is thrilled that he’s going to kiss her—his hand curves around the back of her neck and _squeezes_ , and all the air leaves her lungs in a gasp—her heartbeat slows down, and she stops shivering, tilting her head in submission, please please _please_ —

He grabs the seatbelt and pulls it across her torso, buckling her in. “You’re fine, sweetheart.” And Rey calms, though it’s artificial—his hand putting firm, even pressure on her gland, dosing her with something that makes her sleepy and pliant. She sighs, blinking up at him, dazed, and leans forward to nuzzle at his jaw—

“Don’t pull a stunt like this and I won’t have to pull rank.”

That riles her back up again, quick as a whip. She yanks herself out of his grip with a scowl. “I wasn’t— _pulling a stunt_. I was walking home from work!”

“It’s dark and there’s seven inches of snow on the ground—you, especially shouldn’t be walking around in something like this,” he growls. His knuckles are white around the steering wheel.

“What do you mean, me especially?! You’re so backwards, to suggest that a grown woman can’t walk around by herself—“

“I saw you fall—and look at your hands!”

Rey looks down at her lap—she hadn’t been wearing gloves and so she had scraped them up a little. “So?” She snaps, but already she feels tired of fighting with him. She’s tired of being angry. And she’s tired even though she slept all weekend, a worrisome notion—maybe she’s sick—

“I can’t,” he grits out. “Handle it. You. When I saw you fall.” There’s a long pause. “I am sorry for using a command, but I was worried about you.” His mouth trembles. “It’s hard to watch an omega getting hurt. I wasn’t going to let you walk all the way home like that.”

_But it’s just me,_ she thinks, her brow furrowing. _You don’t even like me._

_It’s hard to watch an omega get hurt._ Not Rey, but any Omega. Any alpha would have the same reaction. 

She wasn’t special. Not to him.

They ride the rest of the way in tense silence until he pulls into a parking spot outside the building. Rey makes a move to jump out of the car, but Ben grabs her sleeve and tugs, ever so gentle.

“Rey,” he says, his voice unspeakably soft. “That day in the lobby—you—“ he shakes his head. Rey feels like she’s on the precipice of something, her heart fluttering. _I’ll fall for this every time_ , she thinks. _You smell so good and you talk to me so softly_.

“I need to ask you something. It’s...personal, but I—“ he glances at her, his face anxious. “I have to know.”

“What?” Rey feels like she’s dreaming, or floating or swimming in something viscous. 

He clears his throat. “Are you...well you _must_ be, because you smell— _ah_. Are you going into heat soon?”

She blushes to the roots of her hair, speechless. Her hot neighbor is asking about her heat cycle—even if she’s not going to have one, it’s the _implication_ —

“Because,” he continues, voice raw. “I’ll need to leave. Go stay somewhere else.”

_Oh_. 

It burbles out of her before she can stop it. It hurts so much, this level of rejection— “I know I stink,” she says, tears blurring her vision. “I’m sorry—you don’t—“ she sniffles, feeling pathetic and gross. “You don’t have to rub it in—“

“What are you _talking_ about?” He does a good job of acting mystified.

Rey shakes her head, trying to bury herself in her scarf. “You don’t have to pretend for the sake of my feelings,” she scoffs. “Just be honest. It was all over your face the day I moved in. I can’t control how bad I smell to you, and I’m sorry that it inconveniences you but—“

“Rey,” he interrupts, reaching out and engulfing one of her hands in his own. _Not fair_ , she thinks. _Not fair that you can do this and still not be mine_. He squeezes the gland at her wrist and Rey whimpers, the pressure soothing despite everything.

“No, no, no,” and he cracks a tired laugh, sounding watery and relieved. He strokes his thumb against her gland, and Rey shivers. “You’ve got it backwards.”

Oh.

_Oh_.

Rey glances up at him—his eyes are so dark they’re going to swallow her whole. And when he does, he’s going to savor her.

“You smell so good that I thought I was going to _die_ if I didn’t take you back to my room and knot you six ways to Sunday whether you liked it or not. I was scared because the other day I realized there would never be anyone else—and I don’t even really know you. But I don’t need to; nobody will ever smell as good to me as you do.”

The steady hum of pleasure in her brain is getting louder; Rey needs to get out of this car and show alpha her warm nest, he’ll be so proud of her—

“You have been driving me fucking nuts all weekend—and—“ he licks his lips, and Rey is frozen, following the movement with a steady trickle of excitement, hanging on his every word. _This is really happening_ , she thinks, feeling like a kite in a hurricane.

“I could smell it on you, this morning. In the elevator. You didn’t have time to shower, did you?” It’s not a command but it _feels_ like one— _bare yourself to him. Tell him what you did at night. Tell him how you tried to pretend it was him. Tell him how it’s still all over your sticky thighs, show him how filthy you got for him._

Rey shakes her head. “No, alpha.” It slips out of her mouth before she can stop it. It would hurt to hold it in. “Please-“

His pupils are extraordinarily large, glimmering at her answer, and his hand cups her cheek and rubs just behind her ear in a soothing gesture. “Shh, good girl. That’s why I need to know when you’re going into heat. Because I will break down your fucking door. And I have a feeling you want the security deposit back.” 

Rey is taking heady gasps of air—of his scent. She wants to drown, she wants to die just like this but not before he can touch her the way she needs. She nuzzles into his hand, skimming her lips against his palm. “Ben—I need to tell you something too—“

A sharp knock on the passenger window interrupts them. “Hi Rey! Look! I’ve got bee-bee for you!”

Rey turns, lightheaded, to see Poe standing out in the snow with a kennel that holds none other than a bright orange and white cat.

“Poe,” she says weakly, and Ben’s hand is _gone_.

“Hey there Benny Boy—I didn’t realize until I came to drop off the cat that Rey had moved into your building! Funny how fate works, huh? Rey?” Poe opens the passenger door. “You gonna show me around the new place or what?”

Rey is so confused—so much just happened that she can’t tell what’s real and what’s not, and she’s doped up on alpha pheromones, then to top it off she’s feeling quite sick, actually. Suddenly Poe has her bag and is ushering her to the door. She cranes around to look for her alpha, but the wind is blowing so hard she gets disoriented—

“Isn’t she a cute little thing Ben? See ya around!” Poe’s alpha-sized hand claps her on the shoulder, squeezing her into his side. Rey shuts her eyes at the wave of nausea: not my alpha, not my alpha. “Come on Rey, It’s freezing!”

When Rey finally manages to look over her shoulder, Ben’s car is gone.

“He’s always been a bit prickly,” Poe says wrinkling his nose. “Ever since we were kids. How did you meet him anyway? Normally I wouldn’t sic Ben on my worst enemy, but I’m glad he picked you up! Chewie said you refused a ride. We need somebody looking out for you when you get all hard-headed.”

She licks her lips. “He’s in 7c.”

* * *

“I like it,” Poe says enthusiastically, pacing around her kitchen. “Much better than the old place—the bar is low, though.”

“Me too,” Rey says, picking up Beebee where he’s rubbing up against her shins. “Thanks for looking after him while I moved.”

“No problem,” he says, ruffling BeeBee’s ears. “He’s always well behaved.”

Rey laughs—the cat is cute but almost always up to trouble. She buries her face in his fur and breathes him in.

“I hate to kick you out,” she says to Poe. “But to be honest I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t want you to catch it—“

Poe wrinkles his nose. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but Rey, you do smell kinda funny.” He ruffles her hair. “I’ll tell Finn you said hi—he’s dying to come over but it’s finals season.”

Poe grabs his jacket and pauses just on the threshold, looking back at her, his expression oddly—concerned.

“Rey—you still do the suppressants year round, right?”

She blinks. “Yeah?”

“Just—I dunno. With an Alpha next door and everything—“

“Poe,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” he throws his hands up in submission. “Just thought I smelled something out of place about you, as if—It must be the candle. Or Beebee.”

Rey shrugs. “Give Finn my best.”

The moment the door closes, Rey grabs her scarf where Ben’s scent still lingers. Huffing, she pulls it into her bed. She needs to lie down if she’s going to get ahead of this cold coming on— but first she needs the extra couch blanket, and maybe a few more pillows. 

Rey falls asleep in a cocoon, and dreams of the way Ben had looked at her in the car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first abo fic so feedback is appreciated ok bye luv y’all


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew Chile the tension part of the sexual tension’s almost over

  
Ben drives with a lead foot to the docks on the far side of town. It’s silent in his car save for the awful, pained sound of his breathing. 

Glittering, angry eyes, hazel-sweet. _You’re not my alpha._

 _Ben_ —and he cherishes the way his name sounds in her lilting voice, even if he’ll never have anything else— _I have something to tell you._

Of course. _Of course._

She’s somebody else’s. 

He rips himself out of his car and runs to the edge of the seawall, the wind roaring in his ears. His hands won’t stop shaking as he yanks his phone out of his pocket.

Fat snowflakes hit the screen and make it hard to scroll to his recent missed calls—he chokes on a sob he didn’t realize he was holding in when he finds the name he needs. They pick up on the second ring.

“Mom,” he croaks. “I’m so stupid,”

“Oh, _haim shelli,_ ” Leia says warmly over the speaker. He hears her shuffle papers in the background. “Yes, but you’ll have to tell me about what.”

It tumbles out of him—“It’s a girl—“ and then then inertia takes the rest, and he struggles to slog through it because there are no words for how he feels now. He tells his mother _everything_ ; her freckles and her smile and her polka dot socks and how small and fragile she’d looked when worried, how fierce she looked when determined—and, and, and—on and on until he had to force himself to shut up because—how could he ever really explain this strange connection with an omega that felt like she was supposed to be his?

“I’ll have to move,” he says, strained, “I can’t stay there knowing she’s with him—I can’t believe I really thought it was happening, mom—the way she was looking at me—“

“Ben,”

“I was wrong, and I don’t know why it hurts so bad—“

“ _Ben_ —“

“I imagined the whole thing—“ his voice cracks. “All of it—this whole time she was trying to let me down easy and I ignored it because I’m a _imbecile_ —“

Leia laughs. “Well, I won’t disagree with you on the last bit.”

Ben’s hands clench into fists. This is what he’s been dealing with for as long as he can remember—being incomplete, missing out on the joke, and he’d been so sure that he’d have to live like this forever—alone, unbonded. 

“Ben,” she admonishes. “Remember when you faked a business trip last summer to skip out on a family friend’s wedding? Because you, and I quote, ‘ _didn’t want to vomit at another empty ceremony to celebrate two people you barely knew sleeping together for the rest of their lives_ ’?”

His last two working brain cells fire. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling very small.

“Who’s wedding was that, Benjamin?”

He clears his throat. “Dameron.” Just like that he’s in the eye of the hurricane— a sudden wave of calm rolls through his body. “Poe Dameron.”

 _Rey Rey Rey Rey. Mine mine mine_.

Poe Dameron has gotten married last summer—which meant—

“I didn’t fake that business trip.” The weight on his shoulders dissipates, as if Leia has snapped her fingers and turned it into air.

“Sure,” says Leia. “One last thing—how many kids does she want? I’m thinking three, but twins run in the family—“

“Bye mom.” 

* * *

Rey tosses and turns but it’s too cold in her room; all the extra blankets she’s dragged in do nothing, and even though sweat drips down the nape of her neck, she needs more. She can’t stop shivering enough to relax, and finds herself maddeningly caught between two worlds.

It has something to do with Ben, and that’s all she can be sure of. He was infuriating, making her second guess every step—getting too close, encroaching on every part of her. 

_It would feel good. You don’t have to worry when alpha is around_. 

Something was sparking between them—he had said so himself. It was embarrassing, how little control she had possessed over the situation in the car. How he’d had to soothe her from getting too worked up, as if she couldn’t handle herself like an adult.

Rey would think she had dreamed the whole thing if she hadn’t immediately locked the door behind Poe and shed off her clothing frantically— _too itchy, she needed air_ —and whimpered when she’d rucked her underwear down her thighs.

She’d made enough slick to soak through the cotton and put a wet spot on her jeans. Instead of dutifully putting them in the laundry, Rey had sunk down to her knees and folded over until her forehead hit cool tile, her hands clenched at her sides while she let out a high pitched whine, afraid to touch herself—

 _Wait for alpha_ , she thinks. _Be a good girl and wait for him._

But Ben wasn’t coming—he had _left_ her, driven away to god knows where, even after all that—the touching, his soft, coaxing voice, his scent all over, in every nook and cranny of her being. _Good girl_.

Her abdomen cramps painfully. “No,” Rey sobs. “It’s not like that. He’s not here, you stupid, _useless_ —“

She had scrambled out of her jeans and thrown them furiously at the wall and fumbled back to her bedroom. Her limbs feel weak and out of control, like her body was no longer her own.

She flops onto her belly and smothers her face into a pillow. _You’re having a biological reaction_ , she thinks, ignoring the raging migraine forming at the base of her skull. _A hormone response to being left alone after having someone initiate a gland flush_. Not even suppressants worked against direct contact like that. She just never thought it would be so torturous.

The scientific explanation does slow her down, enough to breathe through a few cramps and think about how much she _hates_ Ben-Next-Door. 

In fact, she hates him so much she wants to give him a piece of her mind—she springs out of bed, feeling manic, sweat on her skin, _why_ , and then looks at the thermostat. It’s wrong—it’s set to seventy two but it’s definitely colder in here because she can’t stop shivering. 

She curses and throws on a too-large sweater, shouldering a blanket like a giant cloak and stomping to the supply closet. She’ll take care of this first and then confront that stupid alpha in 7c.

Inside the door sits the central air system; Rey pokes at it for a few moments before scowling and realizing that it was installed with the service compartment facing the back—she’d need to turn it around in order to do any real work on it. She finds her toolbox and sets to work unscrewing the safety hinges, carefully placing them one by one in a spare tool compartment for later.

She puffs up and pushes as hard as she can but the damn thing won’t budge. She scrabbles with it for a few minutes until she’s sweaty and red in the face, but it must weigh more than it looks, because she gets nowhere.

She blows some hair out of her face. Fine. _Fine_.

Determined not to be beat, Rey grabs her blanket again and stomps out of her apartment and into the hallway. 

_You owe me, Ben,_ she thinks, furious. _You don’t get to fuck with somebody like that and then leave and think you can wash your hands of the whole thing_.

_Alpha will fix it. Alpha will make you safe and happy and warm._

She knocks on his door harder than necessary. “Ben! I need to talk to you. It’s—“

The elevator dings.

“Rey?” 

Then he’s standing there with his head cocked, looking down, his chest heaving like he ran all the way to her—

Rey chooses this moment to remember she’s not wearing pants.

“Ben,” she says, face pink, and oh, she can smell him again and it feels like a balm—the fight goes out of her completely. She shudders and nearly slips to the floor.

Ben is around her in a second, large and warm and she cries out when his arms close in, holding her to his chest. She scrabbles for more purchase against him—she needs it, she’s so _cold_ and alpha left her all alone when she’s so close to heat—

 _Hmm_ , she thinks, pausing for a moment before some significant thought slides out of her head like water on a windowsill. It had felt important but not as important as him being here.

“ _Shhhh_ ,” he says, carding his fingers through her hair. “It’s ok, I’m here.”

She sniffles. His hand on her head is so gentle, as if he’s smoothing all of her back into place. “You left,” she hiccups, pressing her face into his neck. “It _hurts_. Ben. I’m scared—“

“I know,” she feels him swallow, “but I came back, sweetheart. I won’t leave again.”

“I need help,” Rey says, shuffling back into his arms, enough to look at his face.

“I know.” The brown of his eyes is nearly gone, so dilated that they appear as pools of liquid black.

“My heat—“

“ _Yes_ ,” he growls, fingers going tight in her hair, pulling her head back to arch her neck.

“—er is out. Can you help me fix it?”

He pauses, peering at her incredulously, his grip going a little slack. “Your.....heat _er_.”

“I’m freezing,” she babbles. “I kept turning it up while you were gone but I can’t stop shivering. It’s broken for sure. I’m pretty handy, so I think I could fix it, but I need help lifting it. Or maybe you could give me some blankets instead—“

Yes, she liked that idea. Maybe he’d give her his room, even better—she could pile all of his soft things together in his bed. It’d be warm and it would smell like him and it wouldn’t hurt anymore—maybe Ben could stay there too and stroke her hair, or maybe hold her down, just a little. He could do it perfectly—strong enough to pin her even if she resisted a little.

Slick trickles down her thigh.

“Rey,” he says, and there’s a seriousness to his voice but his eyes are warm. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No,” she says, breathing through her mouth and scenting him. “‘Mm cold.”

He takes step forward, towering over her enough that Rey stumbles back into the wall. Her heart speeds up, because—

“You’re _cold_ —“ his hands slip under her sweater and she drops the blanket she’s had around her shoulders—“because, little _omega,”_ his hands curl around her middle and for a dizzying moment Rey realizes that they’re big enough to wrap around her waist, and _oh_ , she must be very small, or he’s _very_ big, she can’t remember which; he lifts her up against the wall easily and pins her there, stepping between her thighs and closing in around her, her frantic heartbeat against his—“ _you’re_ going into heat. And you need somebody to knot you.”

“No—o,” she says, squirming shamelessly against him—the friction felt good, little bursts of pleasure as she rocked against his waist. She was a lot wetter than usual, come to think about it. 

Hell, getting knotted sounded kind of nice—her insides kept clenching down hard and it was making her whine. She wanted to be full, and Ben would do a good job—probably had a fat knot, judging by the size of him. He’d fill her up until she could taste it. All she’d have to do is lie still like a good omega, make pretty noises for him until he put a baby in her—

“ _Rey_ ,” he says hoarsely. “Look at you.”

“Ben,” she whimpered. She doesn’t want to look. It’s going to break the spell. 

“It’s true. I could smell it on you earlier. In the car.”

“Alpha,” she mouths at any bit of him she can reach, her hands twisted in his shirt. “‘M on sup—suppressants. Don’t want—“ 

The rational part of her brain that’s been pushed to the background but still functions starts to tickle: it’s a memory. Eighth grade biology class—the textbook open to the chapter about reproduction.

_Omegas who do not elect to have scheduled heats on suppressants run the risk of having a breakthrough heat despite medication, when coming in significant contact with an ultra-compatible mate._

No, _no no no no_ —

The noise she makes must scare him because he puts some space between them and that feels worse—she reaches out but he grabs her wrists in one hand and tucks them down. 

“It’s ok,” he soothes. “You’re alright. It’s just a breakthrough heat.”

“Ben,” she whispers, eyes wide and panicky. “Ben, I don’t feel good—“

“Do you want me to go?”

Her world seems to shatter at the thought. “ _No_ ,” she says, urgent, feeling tears well up. “Alpha, please don’t leave me, I need you, I _need_ —“

“I know,” he lets go of her wrists and brushes her wet lashes with his thumb. “Do you want to show me your nest?” He says encouragingly. “Will that help?”

She nods vigorously. “I made it. For _you.”_

“Already?”

“Days ago,” she says breathlessly—and he smiles. Oh, she shivers—alpha is happy with her. She’s a good omega. Makes a good nest to get bred in.

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning in close and finally— _finally_ — pressing his lips to hers; her whole body melts into a puddle—he tastes so good, and he knows what to do—he holds her still, so she won’t flutter away, pressing his lips to hers over and over. Eventually he licks at the seam of her mouth and Rey can only sigh in delight, relaxed and pliant in his arms.

“Ok,” he says, nosing along her jaw, pressing his mouth gently at her neck. “Here’s what we’re going to do—“

Rey listens intently, already nodding. _Tell me what to do,_ she thinks, _I need it, please—_

“I’m going to put you down— _no_ ,” he nips at her throat—“hush, don’t whine. I’m going to put you down, and then you’re going to go back into your apartment and make your nest all nice for me, ok? And I’ll go make some heat-leave arrangements for both of us, and get some food and water so you won’t get sick,” his teeth scrape over her gland but he doesn’t bite, and it makes Rey want to growl at him.

“And then when you’ve had a chance to think, I’ll knock on the door, and you can decide to let me in,” he kisses her mouth again. “Or not.”

She blinks up at him, trying not to look hurt. She doesn’t want to leave him—she wants to be held in his arms forever. It’s safe there. And she’s not even wearing pants—he could just fuck into her like this, and she’d make him happy.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “I promise. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He sets her down on her toes before she can complain too much, herding her towards her open door and nudging her inside. Rey feels drunk, everything too bright, but the nest is close-by, and she should fiddle with it if it’s going to fit her alpha too.

“Rey,” he says, lips next to her ear. He’s standing right behind her. “I need you to decide.”

“Decide what?” She asks, her voice awfully airy.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you,” he answers. “You need to keep the door locked when I come back.”

Rey shivers—her thighs are already sticky but she feels another pulse slide hotly out of her.

“ _Say it.”_

“Yes, alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More trash available at toutlevin dot tumblr dot com


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ten police officers outside of my door: ma’am hand over the italics button and nobody gets hurt
> 
> Me: I would rather die

From the moment he says fuck, Rey is a goner. It’s seductive, absolutely _filthy_ coming from those lips, in that voice. A promise he intends to keep. Deeply.

She wants to see. _Curiosity killed the kitten_ , she thinks as she lets herself be led back to her apartment. He’s a solid heat at her back—she remembers old myths. Don’t look back; Orpheus and Eurydice, pillar of salt, whisked away to the underworld forever. 

She resists temptation to turn around and latch onto him, to intertwine their fingers and pull him inside her living room. _Show alpha you trust him, that you believe he’ll return._

The door clicks shut and Rey is alone.

_I’ll come back. I promise._

She takes a few breaths of clean air—unsoiled by virile alpha pheromones; her head clears quite a bit, and _now_ she understands what Ben had been trying to do.

_I would’ve knotted you six ways to Sunday, whether you liked it or not,_ he had said—so long ago, now that the last hour has aged her a year. Rey knows—opening that door means the choice will be made for her.

Even if it got to be too much, she wouldn’t be able to put up a fight. In fact, she would beg for more. 

Biology was irresistible, up close like that. She remembers being little, drawn to fire, leaning too close, burning herself. An awful lesson—this feels the same.

Ben needed to know if she really wanted him, as himself—not just the alpha who could command the response of her body. He’d given her the choice.

And beside all of that confusing stuff she wasn’t able to decipher, then there was the matter of her heat—which, yes, she could confirm that so far, was _awful_. Cramping, fever, panic—and the _mess_.

She remembers some dark bar, sharing far too many beers with Finn on a late Saturday. “ _Well_ ,” he had blushed. “ _Of course you think it’s horrible. You’ve never gone through it with an alpha. Completely different—unbelievable, satiating sex, of course, but there’s something funny about experiencing it with someone there—intimacy, I guess. You’re very vulnerable.”_

Her worst subject. _Great_.

The things Ben said—were they for tonight? Or forever?

What did it matter? Her heat was going to happen no matter what at this point. Three days in bed and another to rest. And he was going to bring her food and water—

_Good alpha provides._

Rey wrings her hands in her sweater and sets to work: the nest in her bedroom needs work to fit two. She fluffs the pillows, rearranges them, flips blankets, and rubs her scent all over them—then she curls up on one side, pressing her cheek into the fabric.

The squirming flexes her thighs, and Rey starts to pant a little heavier; Ben was big—she’d need more slick to take him comfortably. She rolls onto her front, pushing a pillow down to her hips and slowly rocks into it.

It feels _good_ —better than when she’s not in heat. There’s something deeply primal about it—her hair comes lose from her bun, and she revels in the mess of it. Her slick is everywhere—she’s sticky, and it smells heady, even to her alone.

“ _That’s the other thing_ ,” Finn had continued. “ _They can’t get enough of you—no matter what you do, it’s like you’re made of gold. They’re obsessed with you.”_

Would Ben like her slick? Would he think it was sweet? Would her lick her clean and force her to make more? Would he hold her down and milk it from her with his thick fingers? Or his cock?

Rey whimpers and manages to get a hand beneath her abdomen—she traces over her clit and shudders—her sex is swollen and slippery, probably pink, and her skin burns, hot to the touch.

Somehow none of her soft, familiar touches bring her relief; every object of her focus slides back to Ben, a true north. Her fingers are too small, nothing compared to the weight of the cock she had ground herself against in the hallway. Would he fuck her like that, first? Pin her to the wall, let her legs wrap around his waist and he told her to take it?

Would he strip her naked and balance her in his lap, let her squirming and gravity take care of working his cock into her? Would he bruise her waist with his grip, bouncing her down his length until he was pleased enough to knot her? Would he hold her close when she cried about being too full, wipe her tears and force her to come just so she’d squeeze him a little tighter with her cunt?

Rey whines, high-pitched and desperate, slick spilling across her hands and her thighs; the sheets soaking it up—and yet it’s _awful_ ; it’s not like coming at all. Her body quivers and stretches for something delightful and finds emptiness. Despite her cry of protest, her body gives her absolutely _nothing_.

She curls up tight into a ball with a sob, the cramps returning in full force. She tries to self soothe, rubbing hard against the back of her neck but it’s a pitiful replacement—it only makes her remember the way it felt in the car; his hand, the perfect size, the immutable strength behind it. 

There’s a firm knock from very far away.

_Everything_ sinks out of her mind; _alpha is here to claim her_ —she stumbles out of the blankets, not bothering to fix the mess of her hair. The nest smells like her, and it makes her preen— _alpha will be proud of her, alpha will tell her she’s good; she saved herself, saved her slick for him—nobody else, nobody—_

Her hand trembles on the deadbolt. 

Just for today. She thinks distantly. Just for one heat; when he inevitably leaves, she’ll pick up the pieces like she always has. 

* * *

He snarls when the door opens, reaching for her immediately—they both stumble a little, at the onslaught of it, but he easily catches her under the arms and lifts. There’s something darkly pleasing about giving her so little control that she can’t even move without him—he realizes that Rey definitely doesn’t mind, pupils blown wide and glassy, her face pink, mouth slightly open. 

He grunts, hefting her against the wall and pinning her with his hips—Rey squeaks and yanks at his hair with delight, wrapping her legs around his waist. He mouths at her neck—she smells like his own personal heartache and slick. They pick up right where they left off in the hallway, rutting against each other mindlessly.

He reaches out to flick the deadbolt. He’ll keep her here forever, and the thought shivers down his spine—he’ll burn her clothes and keep her sleepy and sated, protected inside of this place, make sure nobody else even looks at her again. _Mine_.

“You came back,” she mumbles, trembling, winding her arms around his neck, looking at him as if he’s performed some miracle. 

He nips at her throat. “You let me in,” he responds in wonder, his lips wandering against her jaw, her pulse points and into her hair. She’s flawless like this, potent and a little fragile.

His hands dip from her waist once he’s made sure she’s secure, notched against the wall with his weight—he traces his thumbs lower, against her hipbones (he snarls, nips at her neck in reprimand, eliciting an apologetic whine, even though a small part of him flares with purpose; his omega will never go hungry again) and then lower to her ass, digging his fingers in.

His heart skids a little; Rey is making the most delicious, needy little noises when he touches her. Ben never thought he could get this hard, but something about this girl—

He bites down, hard, on her neck.

Rey shudders in his grip, gasping, and then goes slack in his arms— _oh_ , that’s—

He’s pleased and he can’t even help it; how docile and pliant she feels beneath him. It feels like pure power, and she _gave_ this to him. He licks a broad stripe up to her ear over the imprint of his teeth, feeling the gland pulse under his tongue. It’s a little too intimate for him to be pushing this on a girl he met four days ago, heat or no. “Sorry,” he croaks, nuzzling her apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“ _Fuck_ ,” she whispers. “Ben— I need— more, please—“

The smell of slick permeates the air—if she wasn’t already barreling towards the thick of her heat, she’s in it now. He can feel her trying to sluggishly move against him, egging him on. Rey blinks up at him wryly, her head tilted, attempting to entice him into biting her again.

“Shhhh,” he presses his lips to the bite, and his teeth feel jittery but he holds back. “Look at me,” he coaxes, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw, tilting her head towards him. He can’t resist sliding his thumb over her parted lips—Rey immediately licks the pad, attempting to suck it while maintaining eye contact. “But Alpha, I _need_ you—“

_Jesus this is going to be hard_ , he thinks, _no pun intended_.

He scowls—she’s teasing him. “Listen to me,” he commands, and all but shoves his thumb in her mouth as deep as he can get it. Rey gags a little, it’s beautiful—he feels her tongue flutter against the intruding digit.

She’s mollified a little—he watches as a little cognition comes back into her gaze. He can’t help himself; he swoops in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. 

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Where’s the bedroom? Is that where your nice nest is?”

“—‘agh ‘wugh,” she gurgles around his thumb eagerly. He laughs softly, pulling it out of her mouth and wiping the wetness across her lips. 

“That way,” she says again, eyes bright, tugging at his shirt, gesturing vaguely towards the hallway to his left.

He scoops her up in his arms, and it feels good to flex his musculature; there’s a thrumming in his veins that enjoys the show of strength, his body gearing up in response to hers. Rey giggles, sounding like music to his ears. He floats down the hallway, letting instinct find his way to where her scent is strongest.

_Also_ , his brain says distantly, _you both have a one bedroom on this floor, it’s the same floorplan but oriented to the other side, so you really already know where the bedroom is—_

_Nope_ , it’s definitely his superior alpha instincts.

Rey wiggles when he reaches the threshold—he sets her down gently on her toes. His petite omega grins at him—nose scrunched up, freckles dotting her blushed cheeks. Her hand finds his and she all but drags him into her room.

“Do you like it?” She asks breathlessly, pulling him to the center, towards the bed.

He nods, but he only has eyes for her—she’s impeccably soft in the lamplight; golden skin, barely coming up to his chest. She smells delicious, as does the room, but something flexes in his chest seeing her barefoot, holding his hand and smiling at him. It feels like a dream, one he doesn’t deserve. 

She takes a step forward, closing the distance between them and leaning all the way up—he still has to stoop down a little, and he does, wrapping an arm across her back, pulling her flush against his chest, enjoying the feel of her warmth. She’s burning, actually—the fever for a knot ramping up now that she’s less anxious.

It’s surprises Ben, how nice it is to be wanted.

“Please,” Rey says, voice low. “I dreamed about you—“ her little hand cups him through his trousers, grinding her palm down. “I pretended it was _you_ , each night, when I touched myself, I pretended it was your hands on me when I came—did you ever think about me?” There’s real, genuine hope in her voice that tips him over the edge.

“Did I think,” he picks her up— _easily, so easily, fuck_ —“about bending you over—“ Rey squeals in delight as he throws her on the bed, climbing on top of her, “and pounding that sweet little cunt into submission? Yes, Rey—“ his hand wraps around her throat and _squeezes_ , “I thought about it every time I heard you get yourself off—every time I smelled you, desperate for a knot.”

Rey bucks feebly against where he’s straddling her body, testing him—it’s satisfying that she goes nowhere, that she has no chance at pushing him off. “Fuck, _Alpha_ —“ she puffs, reaching up to grab his wrist.

“Yeah, you’re getting the idea, sweetheart,” he smiles, snatching her hands and pinning them above her head. 

“Ben,” she whines—

He keeps her wrists there, squirming a free hand between their bodies, finding her slick and wanting between her thighs. “Is this all for me?”

“Uh huh,” she moans like she can’t help herself, arching beneath him when he presses ever so lightly against the swollen bud of her clit.

“You make such pretty noises when you’re in heat, hmm, omega?”

“Yes—please— _there_ , please touch me—“

“It’s ok—we’ll go slow at first, since you’re so little. I’ll stretch you open first with my fingers, and then you can try to take a knot.”

Rey’s face scrunches up, her lips trembling. “My—it’s my first—“

His fingers freeze where he’s been slowly stroking her—she whines a little but stays still beneath him, shivering.

“Will it hurt?”

She poses the question with such singular innocence, and its does awful, horrible things to his heart and his dick.

His eyebrows knit, and he debates only for a second before going with the truth. “A little. The first time. You’ll be—overwhelmed, but I’ll be here with you. To make it feel better. I’ll have you come as many times as you want so you forget.”

“Okay,” she sniffles bravely.

_Fuck fuck fuck—you’re going to kill me, aren’t you._

She rolls her hips a little so his fingers slide where she wants them. It brings him back—she needs him to be in control, and his little omega has been so obedient.

“Keep them there,” he instructs, releasing his grip on her wrists. Rey wriggles back into the blankets as if he’s scratched some deep part of her with just a few words. 

_Okay_ , he thinks. _You can do this. Just be what she needs._

His hand drifts down the length of her arm, over freckled shoulders, skimming her soft cheek—Rey turns her head into it automatically, as if pulled on a string. 

He starts stroking her center again with his other hand, soaking in the blissed-out look that crosses her face. It shivers down his spine, the realization that she’d let him do anything he wanted to her body. Like he owned her. An omega plaything for her alpha.

He waits until she’s a little worked up—sweet little whimpers spill from her lips; her eyes teary. He can’t tell she’s close—she seizes up every few strokes with a gasp, hips working helplessly. 

“My baby wants to come, doesn’t she?”

“Yes—“ she hiccups. “‘M gonna—“

“Not yet,” he croons, brushing her hair from her forehead. “Just a little longer, sweetheart.” His fingers slow just enough to make sure she can’t finish off. “I like you like this—all squirmy and desperate. Don’t you like spreading your legs for your Alpha? Don’t you want me to keep you like this?”

Rey keens, her expression conflicted. She’s shaking her head no, but all that comes out of her mouth is a steady stream of “yes, yes, Alpha please, _anything_ —“.

He relents; his hand stops stroking her hair—he cups the back of her upper trapezius and squeezes.

“Come for me, baby. _Ah_ — _there_ you go— good girl.”

Rey squeaks, going rigid—he watches her crest over helplessly, uncontrollably. Her whole body tenses, from her abdomen to her toes. The noise she makes is unfiltered; high-pitched and absolutely lovely, in the back of her throat. Her face and chest is splotchy with heat-fever—she is so small and vulnerable beneath him that he feels like a king.

Eventually her face screws up with a new type of frustration: she’s overstimulated and worn out. He can’t resist a few more heavy pets, just to see—she just takes it with soft noises, submitting easily to him.

Rey, precious thing, yawns and curls into him when he sucks his fingers into his mouth. His cock is rock-hard against his belly, and he has a feeling he could just roll her over, start stretching her out and Rey would just lay there, his pliant, sleepy girl.

He pulls her onto his chest—Rey goes easily, drowsy, rubbing up against him like a cat seeking comfort. “What about you?” She mumbles, but her eyes are closed “I can—I _can_ , whatever you want, alpha,” she slurs.

Rey takes a deep breath and snores, and even _that’s_ adorable. 

He is _so_ wrecked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all ever get dicked down so hard you feel it in your heart 😤😤🥺🥺


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @white claw mango: sponsor this chapter you cowards

  
His omega sleeps like the dead, which he finds deeply satisfying for some reason. She snores on his chest, occasionally wrapping herself closer into him. Everything about them is tangled—their feet, his arms around hers, the blankets. Breathing in tandem. 

He feels _whole_.

Even their smell’s been mixed up—the one their babies would have, the one he’d come home to after long days to find her barefoot in his kitchen, cooing sweetly at some pudgy infant—

Ben shakes his head. 

Rey stirs a little at that— he feels it when she stretches her toes and nuzzles into him. He momentarily feels bad for disturbing her but—

“Hi,” she says shyly, blinking herself awake with a soft grin. He can’t help but smile back.

“Hello,” he says. His voice sounds gravelly, even if he hasn’t waited that long for her. The change in circadian rhythm during heat is fairly normal—sleeping two to four hours after a gland flush initiated by alpha pheromones, and then awake until...until one gets fucked again, so to speak. Omegas need the rest, otherwise they’d fall ill from exhaustion.

Her eyes darken as she takes him in—she makes a little noise in the back of her throat and moves to sit up. He has no idea _why_ , but—

His hand snaps out around her neck; in one move he grunts and rolls on top of her, pinning Rey belly-down to the mattress. Her body feels impossibly tiny beneath his, her whimper muffled into the blankets. “Lie still,” he growls against her ear. Rey puffs, wriggling just a bit to no avail before blessedly relaxing with a sigh.

It makes him so hard it _hurts_.

He needs this feeling as much as she needs a thick knot—needs to make sure that his omega will submit. It makes him feel powerful and strong and red-blooded, his heartbeat doing double.

Rey’s expression has gone all hazy again, he can see it from where she’s turned her head to the side to breathe; her scent’s sharp. He doesn’t need to look to know that she’s dripping onto the blankets.

“Alpha,” she whines—tensing her thighs, trying to tilt her hips to the angle that comes most naturally to heat. Each movement presses them closer together. “Please?”

“I don’t know,” he rasps. “Your cunt is awfully tight, little one. You haven’t—haven’t been knotted yet. We need to go slow.”

Rey makes a frustrated, teary noise. “No, no, no—I can take it. Please— _mhm_ —make me take it?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans, dropping his forehead to her shoulderblades, shivering. He’s still wearing underwear, but he can’t resist dropping his hips to grind the hardness of his cock against her pert backside for relief. It scratches some other part of him—laying claim to her, making her sticky and _filthy_ with his precum. Rey seems to realize his control is slipping and becomes incensed—

“Need you, Ben,” she moans, stretching beneath him like a kitten. “You _promised_. You said—you said I needed to be _fucked_ —you said you’d take care of me.”

No amount of soothing was going to help at this point—Ben abandons trying to stave it off any longer; he yanks his underwear off and slides his knees between hers, nudging them apart.

“Spread them wider, baby,” he murmurs, hooking one arm beneath her hips to help her up on her knees. He drapes himself over her like a huge blanket, reluctant to have her exposed to anything that isn’t him or her nest.

Rey is eager to comply, arching her spine near the breaking point, pushing her hips back against his. The tip of his cock brushes between her legs where it’s wet—he watches in wonder, when he pulls back to see slick drenched over him, messy and sweet.

Rey scrabbles with the sheets a little bit, frustrated. She’s nearly crying now, he can see; tears in wet lashes, soft hiccups. He’s never had anybody want him so much that they’ve been reduced to this. It’s precious—he wants to bottle her up, keep her safe in his pocket. 

“ _Shh_ ,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing, trying to ground her. His teeth scrape at her neck before he can help it. “You’ve been such a patient girl, huh?”

Rey sniffles and nods as much as she’s able.

“You did so good, sweetheart. All wet and needy. Spreading your legs for your Alpha.”

“Yeah,” she answers, voice no longer as shaky. He feels her bask in the affirmation. “ _Yeah_ , for you—“

“Good omegas get knotted, hmm?”

“Can I? Please?” Her little hand finds his wrist where he’s braced himself on the mattress, and _squeezes_.

His vision goes a little funny; he’s not sure if it’s the sound of her voice asking to be bred, or if it’s the sight of her fingers barely making it around the width of his wrist—either way, the dam breaks. There’s too much of her smell in the room: he’s drowning in it and he never wants to come up for air.

Rey’s too tight for him to fit all the way in on the first try—she stiffens and makes a strangled noise at the first three inches, trying to adjust; but Ben knows she’s _made_ for this.

“All the way,” he encourages, partly because he wouldn’t be able to stop now, even if she needed it, and it _scares_ him. Ben pets her hair, coaxing her to keep her hips still and her thighs spread as he drives forward.

“Ben,” she squeaks, gasping when he nudges something that makes her clench up.

He lets out a lung-full of air he didn’t know he was holding, and shallowly fucks into her, determined to hit that spot again. Anything to elicit another sweet sound from those lips. When he does, Rey jerks up, throwing them both off balance.

“Ben,” she whines, “that’s—ah, _no_ —too much—“

The crack of his hand across her ass is sharp—Rey yelps in surprise, but it’s tinged with something deeper. His fingers wrap in her hair and he yanks her head back, skimming his nose across her gland. _“I didn’t say you could move_ ,” he growls.

“But—“ she wobbles up on her knees.

“It’s _not_ too much—little thing like you just isn’t used to getting filled up.”

Rey whines and tries to nuzzle back into him—“‘m sorry, Alpha, I need help—please show me—“

“That’s alright. On your belly, Rey.”

Ben tilts her forward again, gripping her gland; Rey is as pliant as a leaf, bending to his will until her cheek hits the pillow.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“Yes, I _swear_ —“

“Keep your ass up,” and then he’s pushing into her heat and Rey is true to her word, hissing through her teeth at the stretch, shoulders shaking, but letting him have his way.

“Relax,” he reminds her gently—Rey nods into the pillow, and Ben watches the rise and fall of her ribs slow.

Eventually his cock bottoms out and it’s glorious—she’s silky and tight, and he can almost feel the tip bumping up against her cervix.

“Fuck, Rey. I told you you’d take it—tell me how it feels.”

“Its— _nnngh_ —deep.” She wiggles her hips a fraction, the subtle slide sparking light behind his eyes. “Big. Too big? But—“ her tones changes, placating. She peers over her shoulder with big eyes, as if she’s afraid he’ll pull out. “It feels _good_ , Alpha.”

It works—whatever she’s doing. She can’t be cognizant enough to be doing it on purpose; pressing every button that electrifies his need for her. It’s just...natural. How much she turns him on.

Determined to make his heart skip, Rey fucks herself back a little. She’s stuffed so full that there’s nowhere for his cock to go, but it does change the angle.

“ _No_ —“ he manages to choke out. As much as he likes the view, Rey needs to be taken care of to satiate heat. “You gotta let me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He’s not exactly sure how her body will know the difference—there’s plenty of complicated biological science he’s sure they can study together later. And yeah—not every second of heat has to be dedicated to an Alpha dominating his partner. But it’s the same as an Omega trying to find relief from a toy; close but but never close enough.

So Ben holds her down and fucks his Omega like she deserves.

Rey is past making words; just pathetic, needy sounds of shock each time he bottoms out that go straight to his dick. Rey is small enough to arrange how he wants: they don’t quite line up perfectly due to his height, so Ben has to keep yanking her hips higher to meet her swollen sex and thrust in properly. Her skinny legs kick out and she squeals each time—it’s easy, _too easy_ to snatch a thin, tanned calf and dig his fingers in.

His knot is eager to catch, trap this pretty creature beneath him. His belly tenses at the sensation, far more intense than just fucking—but it’s more than that—it’s the idea of everything after.

“Gonna fill you up,” he mumbles, mouthing at her damp, messy hair. “You gonna take it? Little omega likes getting bred? You gonna give me babies?”

Rey seems to catch on to this with singular attention—her head perks up. “ _Yes_! Yeah—please, as many as you want—“

“You’re gonna be stuffed with come, sweetheart. Gonna feel it for weeks when I’m done. Everyone’s gonna know you’re _mine_.”

Her hands curl into the sheets. “ _Yours_ ,” she warbles, as if she’s afraid to say it out loud. 

“You look very pretty like this,” his lips find the back of her neck, feeling Rey arch at the praise. “A good girl taking her first knot.”

“Ben,” she whimpers. “I _need_ it.”

“I know,” and it takes everything in him not to beg her to bite down with those little teeth hard on his neck—make him her Alpha. “Stay just like that—“

It’s different—Alphas are driven instinctually to bite during heat. It helps to alleviate the pain, forms a short bond between pairs, makes all the other messy parts easier. Alphas have the luxury of biting with short-term consequences—a few days at most. Omegas can be picky with suitors; they bite outside of heat cycles, aware and in control. They choose partners in life, not just sex. None of this stops him from wanting it anyway.

He grunts when his knot tugs hard enough to ensure they’re locked together—it feels a lot like victory, how Rey tenses up and—

“It’s okay,” he coaxes. “Come, baby. Let go. You’re alright—“

It doesn’t take much convincing—Rey gasps and clenches like a vice around his knot; her smell intensifies and Ben’s teeth feel like _static_ —

He bites hard enough to make his Omega pliant again, working his cock as deep as it’ll go. His eyes roll back, everything narrowed down to pumping her full of his spend—it shudders through him in thick pulses. Rey collapses at the weight of him and he goes with her.

“Ben?” She sounds so small—he feels her tremble, stretched open and dripping.

He nuzzles into her cheek. “You did so good, sweetheart.” His hand drifts to where they’re connected—where his come is a mess on her thighs, letting his fingers trace against her pink clit.

Rey complains at first, overwhelmed, but he’s too eager, trapping her arms at her sides: she’s swollen and sensitive and still on edge. When she does come for the second time on his knot with a shuddering breath, it feels amazing. He’d make her do it again, and _again_ , and—

“Beautiful,” he manages, “Such a good girl,” he praises, smelling her delight, pressing kisses to her throat. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah,” and there’s a strange, mischievous tone to her voice. She wriggles against him and flexes her cunt on his knot, drawing out a groan. “Again, Alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you look closely, there is not a spec of plot folks


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating a fic? Groundbreaking

Han Solo begins his mornings at work decidedly _not_ working, which he justifies through a careful decision process that includes absolutely needing to read the morning paper. Rule number one of working as a mechanic: can’t fix cars without a thorough review of the Monday sports section.

He’s halfway through his second column when he pauses to open his coffee thermos, and decides to multitask like any good boss; by hitting play on the voicemail box of the office phone.

“ _Hello, this is Benjamin Solo on behalf of Rey Johnson. I’m calling to inform you of Rey’s heat leave, which will take place from Monday—“_

Han Solo spits his coffee all over plans for baseball spring training.

* * *

Rey Johnson’s first heat was a terrifying ordeal that resulted in ruined sheets and the loss of nearly ten pounds, which on her small frame had made her look sickly.

For years she had associated that terrible time with all of the emotions that had imprinted on her brain: sluggish thoughts, sore muscles, pale face, and a hole somewhere (in her heart, and sure, other places) that remained unfilled.

This is... _different_.

She can’t exactly call herself lucid or even near normalcy—there’s an undercurrent of permanent want that thrums under her skin: but instead of falling to panic and drowning in it, it’s as if she’s realized she can _swim_.

It helps that there’s an Alpha, she’ll concede. But it really helps that it’s _Ben_.

Ben makes her drink water. Ben feeds her slices of apple and cheese. Ben rubs her back until she sleeps. Ben coaxes her into the shower. Ben tells her she’s good, she’s perfect, she’s beautiful; Ben fucks her how she wants, and when it’s too much and not enough simultaneously, Ben pets her hair and gives whatever her body needs.

“You’re good at this,” Rey hums, letting him arrange her limbs in his lap, facing him in a tangle of legs. She’s knotted and full and sleepy, but Ben has a handful of peanut butter trail mix that he’s feeding her piece by piece.

His fingertips pause over a cashew, and Rey tips her head back to look up at him—to her surprise, he seems...startled.

“I... _really_?” He asks—for a split second she wonders if he’s teasing—but no; it’s genuine confusion knitted across his features.

“Of _course_ ,” she replies happily, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin—he needs a good shave. “I’ve never had someone take care of me like this. You do a good job.”

“Tha—thank you,” he bristles, and Rey doesn’t miss the way his ears go pink.

Rey smiles at Ben, trying not to enjoy the way he’s looking at her; with soft eyes, like she’s precious. Surely she can steal his time just a bit more without hurting anybody—she leans forward and tucks herself against his chest.

It’s easy to pretend this has no end when Ben wraps his arms around her and nuzzles into her neck.

* * *

Rey is still half asleep by the time she becomes cognizant of the cock inside of her, gently rocking her body into the mattress. She whines and tries to sit up, but strong hands and a warm voice coax her back down.

“Feels good,” she mumbles into the pillow, stretching her legs slightly.

“Shh,” Ben mutters, pressing his lips to her ear. “You’re tired. Be still.”

Rey is happy to close her eyes again.

* * *

Next thing she knows she’s crying because she woke back up and Ben is asleep and definitely _not_ inside of her.

She wipes her tears with trembling fingers and nudges into his side with urgency. “Alpha?”

“Mm? Oh.” Ben looks sweet, rolling over with groggy eyes and a sleepy mess of hair.

“ _Shit_ , okay—okay, hush.” 

Ben reaches for her and tugs her body beneath his, searching with fumbling fingers. Eventually he manages to slot them together before puffing up and finding the coordination to start bouncing her on his knot.

* * *

Sunlight streams through the windows, hours later. Rey squeals with delight, wrapping her legs around Ben’s waist and moving her hips to match his rhythm. 

“Ben,” she gasps, tangling a hand in his hair. 

“Rey, you feel so— _fuck_ , so fucking good—“ he pants, pounding into her as deep as he can go.

Rey wishes she could stop crying but she can’t help it—tears prick at her eyes; it’s always so overwhelming; she feels _everything_ so acutely and there’s no respite.

“Ben,” she whimpers. “It hurts—please— _please_ come; I need—need—“

“I know. Relax, sweetheart.”

Oddly enough, she does.

* * *

“Again,” Rey demands churlishly where she’s laying on his chest.

Ben laughs hoarsely, largely out of breath. “You know, I’ve never met an Omega quite so driven,” he teases. But his exhaustion makes sense—he _is_ doing most of the work.

Rey mulls over a response. Maybe she is just a weirdo, but—

“You smell good,” She answers shyly, looking at him from under her lashes. “Really good.” She takes a deep breath, teetering on the edge of something she finds tremendously difficult—telling the truth about her feelings. “I’ve never met anyone like you—you’re special. Sometimes I...never want to smell anyone else.”

Ben meets her eyes, pupils dark. Fingertips brush her cheek.

“I think you’re special too.”

Rey fills to the brim with delight.

* * *

  
“Harder,” Rey huffs, tugging at his hair.

Ben growls and pins her down beneath him, and cruelly, deliberately, sinks just the tip of his cock inside her.

Rey whines, desperately trying to fuck herself, but Ben reaches down to hold her hips still.

“Beg, sweetheart. I like it when you beg.”

* * *

Rey pulls the pile of blankets up over her shoulders, shivering. There’s sweat on the back of her neck so she must be too hot, but the air feels icy, almost burning.

The solid mass besides her rolls over and grunts, spooning against her back. A heavy arm drapes over her waist and long legs tuck behind her own. She’s safe, contained on one side by the nest of blankets and on the other by an Alpha.

He presses his face into the back of her neck. “Almost done. You’re doing so good, too.”

* * *

  
Ben is fucking into her, pushing both of her ankles to her ears, bending her in half and groaning each time he bottoms out. Rey sobs, fingers curling into the sheets. Ben is so huge above her, it’s like he never ends.

“Mine,” he snarls, pushing her further into the stretch.

“Yours,” she echos in a whine, as if she’s strung along by a ribbon, as if he could undo her with a flick of his wrist.

* * *

Rey is sore and achy and sticky and needy—Ben is stretched out beside her, fingertips tracing loose circles against her side.

She forces herself to breathe through a cramp and just enjoy the feeling of everything else in this moment, but her body senses weakness and goes for the kill—a second cramp rolls through her abdomen, enough to cut into her lungs—

A large hand puts gentle pressure between her hipbones, trying to ease her obvious discomfort. “How bad?” he mumbles into the top of her head, soft concern coloring his tone.

Rey blinks back tears, and not from the pain in her womb.

* * *

Ben is just...holding her hips up while he fucks her. She huffs, squirms, and searches for purchase, to thrust back at him—but Ben gives her nothing. It’s kind of—a turn on, to be honest. Like her cunt knows it can’t do anything but wait and take it like a good girl.

“Just arch your back, baby. That’s good— _just_ like that.”

Rey squeaks breathlessly—her orgasm catches up with her in a vibrant shock.

Ben swears something that would make a sailor blush, falling over her back and unloading inside of her.

* * *

“Gonna take my knot again?”

“Yeah—“

“What a good girl I have, huh?”

“Yours, I promise, _oh_ —“

Ben huffs a laugh, kissing her knee. “You want to be filled up, hm?”

Rey sobs. “Please, Alpha—“

“Gonna take my come in your little cunt? Gonna make me pretty babies, Rey?”

Rey arches her spine. It’s all she fucking wants.

* * *

Ben kisses his way up her back before settling at her neck and biting, ever so gently, just enough to pinch her nerves and make her docile. Rey blinks dreamily at the headboard and allows the hormones to flush down to her toes.

His teeth scrape beneath her ear. “You smell good, pretty thing. Stay here. I’ll bring you some more water.”

Rey mumbles and curls into a pillow.

The bed creaks as Ben stands and lifts his weight off the poor mattress. She smiles, listening to him stretch and make his way to the door. He pauses by the nightstand, picking up his phone—

“ _Jesus fucking Christ_ —“

Rey pops up, eyes too dilated. “What’s wrong?”

Ben meets her eyes, looking terrified.

“Why do I have _thirteen_ missed calls from my mother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Doing something productive with my time in quarantine? I don’t think so, bitch
> 
> I’m @TheVuasLog on twitter now and no I don’t know how it works. Send tweet


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise kink called and it owns my ass

Leia picks up on the second ring—Ben can imagine her in her downtown office, surrounded by stacks of paper and her perpetual mug of coffee—ok, maybe whiskey— Bluetooth headphones hidden by a stylish swoop of hair.

“Is someone dying?” He hisses into the receiver, bristling with anger. He balances the device with his shoulder as he cuts honeycrisp apple slices for Rey—who had only regarded him with a visibly distressed expression when he’d apologized and stepped out to call his mother.

“Of course not! Why would you—“

“Well, then what’s wrong? I don’t have a lot of time to talk.”

“I’m aware,” she replies, infuriatingly smug. “I had a pretty interesting talk with your Father on Monday night.”

Ben sighs, opening up the wax paper covering a block of white cheddar cheese, preparing to cube it into bite-sized pieces. “Pray tell. I’m sure it’s fascinating enough to warrant filling my voicemail storage.”

Then she launches into something that shocks him: “You never said it was the girl from your father's shop, Ben! Rey’s her name, right? Did you know—she changed my flat tire last fall?” He can hear his mother grinning mischievously through the phone. “ _Very_ smart girl. Pretty too.”

Ben nearly drops the phone, staring at the countertop, trying desperately to connect the dots that were now all too-apparent. Rey was a mechanic. In his city. He’d picked her up just a few blocks away from this fathers shop—she had even been wearing the same overalls as chewie did; he just didn’t recognize the uniform in a much smaller size.

“Hello?”

“Rey works at Dad’s shop,” he says, listless.

“Well, I know you two haven’t had a lot of time to talk in the past few days, but _really_ , Benjamin? This is basic stuff we’re talking about here.” His mother pauses, tone turning irate. “Are you treating her like a lady?”

He wants to whine, eyeing the door to the bedroom—his neck feels itchy with the need to check on his Omega. She’s been left alone too long already and having someone even _joke_ about him lacking attention irritated him to the core.”It didn’t come up. Yet. If nothing’s wrong, I have to go, mother.” He’d have to ask Rey later if it was true.

“Alright, then it’s settled— you’ll bring her to dinner on Friday? We’ll need to get acquainted if she’s going to be family.”

He pours a glass of orange juice. “ _Mom_ . We’ve talked about this. _Presuming_ things.”

“Well, just let her know she’s _invited—_ “

Ben reminisces about flip-phones: back when it was satisfying to hang up on someone with a snap.

* * *

Rey is tiny in the bed—curled up and already softly snoring. Moreso, she’s swollen, puffy and pink between her legs. Ben can’t help but stare while he stands in the threshold of the door. _I did that. Me. Mine._

“Rey,” he crawls onto the bed, curling himself around her fevered body. “You have to eat now.”

Predictably, she tries to ignore him and squirm further under the covers to sleep—in the morning light he can see why she needs the rest: she’s covered in bruises from all the different ways he’s marked her up. “No.” She tries to protest, her voice hardly there. “Tired.”

“It’s almost over,” he repeats. He’s been telling her this since yesterday, when she’d really started crying in earnest from exhaustion. He doesn’t envy this part at all—Omegas often became lethargic, nearly comatose towards the end of a heat. Rey was no exception—her body trying to make her as docile as possible for her mate to ensure conception.

And yet—it gives him an awful thrill, how small and still she was. He could roll her around like a doll, press her whichever way he liked, sink into her with little to no resistance.

“Eat,” he tugs her up so she’s in his lap, leaning back against his chest. “Please, little one,” he tries, holding out a cracker.

Rey sniffles and opens her mouth—The praises tumble out of his mouth before he can blink. _Good girl my girl so good for me so sweet look at you precious thing my omega does what she’s told she listens so well._

She swallows, craning her head back: her eyes are completely unfocused, listless, and her neck droops to the side like she’s been drugged. Ben shivers—nobody had ever told him it would be so scary to see someone he cared about out of control.

And he did. _Care_ , that is. It was too soon: but there was something about the way she smelled, the warmth of her body beneath his. He’s never felt so at home in another person. 

_And she gave this to me_ , he remembers. _She knew this would happen and she let me take care of it._

“Ben,” she whimpers, stretching her legs. “Need—“

“Shh,” he kisses the top of her head. “I will if you eat first, promise.”

Rey pouts, but considers his offer only momentarily, opening her mouth again—Ben is all too happy to push a cube of cheese between her lips and watch her chew. Rey becomes enamored with his hand near her face—reaching out to curl all of her fingers around just two of his own. Ben has to adjust himself at the sight—the difference in their size was far too apparent like this, with her dainty fingers splayed against his. It was doing terrible things to the rational parts of his brain.

She squeezes with all her might, huffing. It’s adorable.

“I’ll listen,” she tries warily, shifting between his legs, sticky with slick. “I will. I swear. Please?”

His cock is already hard: the sounds of an Omega begging to be obedient were a sure fire way to wind anyone up. Still—he finds a modicum of self control, clenching a free hand on her knee instead of palming his length.

“Another,” he nuzzles her head, this time holding out a slice of fruit. “Good Omegas do as their Alpha asks, remember?”

Rey glances up at him, hunger in her eyes. “I’m good, aren’t I?” She whispers breathlessly, nodding to herself as she leans up to take a bite from his hand, nibbling at his skin. He allows it, frankly enjoying the sight of her sharp little teeth.

She grunts, sitting up—her limbs are shaky, but she just barely maneuvers her weight against his chest before boldly grabbing the tip of his cock and sinking down onto it with a whine, her back to his front. She’s still slick with his last load, most of it easing the way until she’s completely filled with a sigh.

She’s so slight—trembling with exhaustion and he feels his anxiety ramping up. When she moves to try and fuck herself, Ben wraps an arm around her middle and holds her hips still so she’s just impaled on his lap despite her wiggling protest.

“Rey,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. I just want you to sit, alright?” He searches for some way to calm her, convince her that it was alright to rest. “Just—be a good cockwarmer. Can you do that?”

His Omega considers this for a moment, slowly nodding, eyes drooping closed. “‘M good?”

He kisses the top of her gland. “The very best.”

* * *

Eventually he manages to get them horizontal so Rey can have a restful nap—she protests when he tries to ease out of her, so Ben does the obvious and just—keeps his hips flush with hers. There’s something primal about the way he’s buried in her that pleases him deeply. He likes knowing his come has nowhere to go, keeping her filled and happy in her nest. Wrapping himself around her warm little body is an uncomplicated pleasure, like sitting in the sun on a summer afternoon.

Eventually she stirs—eyes blinking open, rolling slightly, searching for his face. He’s surprised when her expression mists over, a great lung-full of air wracking her body.

“You’re still here,” she weakly confirms, fingertips reaching out to trace the shell of his ears.

He nods, turning his head to kiss a dainty fingertip. “I said I’d stay to see you all the way through it, Rey.”

There’s a long beat of silence—her eyes are focused on him, but instantly he senses she’s gone somewhere far away. It’s like he can hear her brain plugging away at some nasty problem. But the moment passes—he hopes he hasn’t stuck his foot in his mouth too badly. The fact that she was probably contemplating if he’d make a good mate was making him nervous.

“You did,” she finally agrees, leaning up to press her mouth against his. 

Her kiss immediately grows urgent and insistent—eventually they’re pulling at each other with abandon, gripping skin, moving together to seek out touch. He can feel the need for more in his veins, to perform his duty. Keep his girl full.

“Ben,” she mumbles, fingers tracing down his abdomen just before he rolls her on to her stomach. “You’re so—kind.” 

He laughs. She sounds half-delirious. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He reaches between her legs, lining himself up with her entrance—she doesn’t need prep anymore, already primed to be bred with the evidence of previous couplings. There’s no doubt about if she’s owned or not—it makes his blood thunderous.

He sinks in with a groan: it’s glorious, velvet soft heat in combination with her body splayed beneath him. 

“You stayed,” she insists into the sheets. “Just for a little,” and then a hiccup—right as he fucks into her. He watches as she wobbles between tense, then boneless when he pushes into her surely-bruised cunt.

He knows he hits the right spot when she keens, spine arching to its limits; he can watch the sweat roll off her neck, the last of her heat fever wearing through.

“So good, Alpha,” she whines. “Please—I need it— _harder_.”

He pulls up her hips and buries himself deep, growling and pulling out just to hear her gasp, protest, as he holds her still. It goes to his head, how he can make her do as he likes.

“Just the tip,” he teases, easing the head just at her opening. “You’re all swollen.”

“No,” she hisses, burying her face in the nest. “ _More_.” It’s petulant and demanding and it so easily fires him up. She wants him just as bad; this knowledge sears his heart.

“Sweet girl,” he pulls at her messy hair. “ _Manners_.”

“Please,” she moans as he dips in again. “ _Pleeease_. Your knot—Alpha. Give it to me. I need it.”

He makes her choke on her words; the snap of his hips shuts her up, making a mess of them both again. He fucks like he’s got something to prove, and maybe he does—there’s a snarling noise that might be coming from him—she’ll never take anyone else this deeply, truly, and the only way he can show her this is by fucking her pretty little brains out.

If he can fuck her well enough, he’ll have a chance at keeping her forever.

Rey is mouth-open, drooling when he catches a glimpse of her face, flushed and pinched with pleasure. Fuck—he’d done that with _his_ knot. It’s beautiful.

“Ben,” she hiccups. “It’s so _deep_. I’m gonna—“

“My sweet girl,” he soothes, pulling her hips flush. He’s close to catching. “Coming on my knot?”

“Uh-huh,” she moans, shivering. “Yes please.”

It’s a soft little command from this pretty creature that does it; he grunts and shoves himself inside her for relief. His knot catches, expanding and pinning her into place, throbbing with spend as he unloads in her cunt, thick and fertile and perfect while they groan in unison.

“Rey,” he mumbles, brushing her hair to the side, wrenching her head up for a kiss. “Stay still.” He’s not sure why he says it—his Omega has no chance of escaping, tiny beneath him. He’s sure if she ran, he’d catch her—but some niggling part of his soul needs to hear her submission. 

“Stay,” she repeats his words, nodding, liquid limbs curling in, shivering with aftershock. He watches as she goes pliant, blessedly still save for the occasional squirm as his cock throbbed. “Please,” she whispers. He works out her meaning: probably needs a bite to fully calm her, so he’s happy to oblige.

He kisses the back of her swollen gland, just before biting down hard.

* * *

She can’t hold it in anymore.

Rey has done lots of new things this week. She’s had her first heat that wasn’t awful. She’s taken her first absence at work. She’s moved into a fresh apartment—branched out with a new brand of wine. New sheets (promptly ruined). Everything: sparkling and terrifying and exciting.

She can do one more. 

So Rey asks him to _stay, please_ , when he comes. As she drifts off to sleep, she really, truly believes he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s that? You want more garbage???? @TheVuasLog on the bird hell site


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Father’s Day my children here is a gift 4 u

The end of one’s heat could be described in clinical terms: a hormone flush, acute fatigue, return to normal body temperature. Rey had a favorite: the dissolution of those awful, white hot cramps that forced out pitiful sounds from her chest. Usually by this point, the space between her hip bones was hollow and she’d be so dizzy that taking a shower sitting on the floor of her tub seemed reasonable.

Usually.

Instead—when Rey opens her eyes and gazes down at her body—a little bruised, puffy, but ultimately sated—she doesn’t feel like she’s taking stock of damaged goods. She’s been fed and combed and fluffed to the brim. Actually,; it feels a lot like being home. Rey smiles at the ceiling, fighting the smile that tugs at her cheeks before rolling over in her bed.

_ Alpha is gone. _

The noise of distress that rips from her soul is awful; it’s as if she’s been punctured right between the ribs by a needle so fine she hardly noticed the wound. Rey rolls in her nest to find she’s alone—; alone again  _ alone again alone forever- _

_ Alpha is gone. Alpha left you. What did you do? _

Rey manages to scan the room—the open door, the lack of movement in the air. There’s nothing there—just emptiness.

_ You disappointed him. Not good enough. Never enough.  _

Rey throws shaky legs over the edge of the mattress, untangling herself from the mound of blankets and sitting up. The only way to stop the swell of grief is to  _ think _ . What had they said in therapy? She needs clarity of mind—she needs to manage her expectations. She needs acceptance of her reality. She needs—

_ Alpha please please come back I’m sorry I’m sorry _

Rey groans, tucking herself over and squeezing her temples, trying to wrangle the stupid instincts that got her here in the first place. If she wasn’t so idiotic as to trust a relative stranger—if she wasn’t so weak-willed for a pair of pretty eyes in the elevator, she wouldn’t be having a crisis. 

_ You have nobody to blame but yourself.  _

Rey bites back a sob. 

_ I hope you learned your lesson. _

“Rey?”

She squeezes herself into a smaller ball—she’s hallucinating now. Maybe she’s fallen back asleep. There aren’t many explanations for hearing his voice now that it’s over. And she must’ve known this would happen. Nobody ever stays behind for her.

“Go away,” she croaks, rocking slightly. “Please—I know he left. I  _ know.” _

“Hey.” Her eyes are white hot, blinded with salty dew. She can’t quite parse what’s happening; she’s lost her axis, and the room is spinning or she’s being shaken—“ _ Hey,  _ Rey—Rey, look at me. Be with me. Ok?”

Her eyelashes are sticky with tears, but when she opens them, it’s to a pale, beauty-marked face that she knows the contours of with her hands, her lips, her cunt. Rey can’t help it; she sobs, throwing her arms up and around his neck —and then he’s pushing her back down into the blankets, rolling them into the back corner and hushing her. He smooths his hand down her spine and talks and talks into her ear, comforting nonsense, until the sun sits lower in the sky and Rey can breathe through the chunk of unresolved sorrow in her lungs.

“‘m sorry,” she mumbles, wiping her nose on her shoulder. “This is ridiculous—I just thought...I woke up and you weren’t  _ here.”  _ She sucks in another gasp of air for strength. “I thought you left.”

The last sentence comes out sounding very small. Perhaps the smallest she’s ever been, vulnerable in ways she’s never been in front of another soul.

Ben is quiet, swaying them softly. His hand has moved to her hair, carefully dragging through the strands in a predictable, safe pattern that he only deviates from to occasionally trace the shell of her ear.

“I don’t ever want to,” he answers, voice trembling. “Leave.”

This crushes her—it’s too close to what she so desperately wants. He must notice; his grip goes vice-like around her middle.

“I mean it,” he assures her. “I only stepped out to get coffee—hell, it’s probably cold now, so I’ll get you another. I’ll have it delivered, if you want.” He shifts them around, so their eyes are level. “Whatever you want,” he continues. “Whatever you’ll give me.”

Rey stares into those honey-brown eyes. They’ve never been softer. When she breathes in his scent—large, gulping mouthfuls—she wants to bottle it up so she can feel this safe and loved forever.

“What is this?” She whispers, terrified. Wonders if he feels the other half of the strange, tumultuous  _ thing _ between them.

His mouth quirks, and he wets his lips like he’s nervous—which is ridiculous, because he’s just spent three days inside every inch of her cunt. “I think...I think this is  _ it.” _

* * *

Ben does order them brunch; coffee and bagels from around the corner. She suggests they just go pick the order up on foot; the idea of shucking on sweats and stretching her legs after being trapped on six square feet of mattress for three days isn’t terrible.

There is also the trembling idea taking shape that he might hold her hand as they walk down the avenue.

Ben rankles, however, at the idea of her leaving the bedroom so soon. He huffs and puffs quietly as she digs through her drawers until  _ finally _ he throws her a beeseaching look so pitiful that she quietly gets back into bed. It is so terribly difficult to hide her self-satisfied grin, so she pulls the blanket up to her nose and shows him that she’ll stay put.

He grumbles, trying to look intimidating while he tucks her back under the covers. “I’ll be back,” he warns. “If you’re not right  _ here _ , I’ll—“

She reaches out a hand, looping one finger into 

his outstretched hand. “I’ll be here.” She states simply, no room for argument.

Her head is mostly clear—it would seem that perhaps Ben is a little out of his depth, still so afflicted with pheromones. She’s finding it oddly cute, how he almost doesn’t recognize it’s his instincts ordering him around.

“Fine,” he nods to himself, pulling away to tuck his hands into his armpits like he’s afraid he might be unable to leave at all if he keeps touching her. “Be  _ good _ .”

It thrills her when he returns, spreads her cream cheese for her, pulls off small bites and feeds them to her.

She drinks her coffee on her own, at her insistence.

* * *

When her coffee is empty and her head clearer than it has been in days, Rey sneaks a hand out of the blanket he’s tucked her in; the tv is marathoning some true crime show, and Ben is clearly asleep, softly snoring, his weight heavy and limp at her back. Her big strong mate was exhausted from fucking her in every position possible. The notion tugs at her finest heart strings.

She reaches to trace the bridge of his nose, down to his Cupid’s bow before settling the pad of her index finger against his lips. The skin there is unspeakably soft and lush, and Rey is so mesmerized by it that she hardly notices Ben is awake.

He’s just watching her; eyes half lidded, practically purring.

She clears her throat. “I’m not in heat anymore,” she announces. 

“Mhm,” he rumbles; Rey feels the vibration beneath her fingertip. “I know.”

“You’re still here.”

He doesn’t even blink. “Yes.”

“You’re staying,” she whispers. She still can’t believe it. 

“I would like to. Like I said before.”

Her mouth quirks. “Sorry for beating a dead horse, I guess. It’s just…”

“I’ll repeat it as many times as you want to hear it,” he says as he presses a kiss to her finger. “As often as you’d like.”

Rey pauses, shifting uncomfortably. She’s unused to this; it’s like trying to navigate the world backwards, in a universe where someone was going to put her first. 

But she’s not dreaming anymore.

“What do we do now?” she blurts. She’s never had a—god, what was this? Boyfriend is so juvenile in comparison to the concept of a mate—it’s annoying how much she likes it anyway.

Ben sits up, pulling her hand into his and raising her knuckles to his lips. “Go to the movies.”  _ Kiss. “ _ Share a laundry basket.”  _ Kiss. “ _ I’ll push the grocery cart while you pick the cereal.”  _ Kiss. “ _ Hold hands on the train.”  _ Kiss. “ _ Fight about who’s turn it is to do the dishes.”  _ Kiss kiss kiss. “ _ Among other things.”

“Oh?” 

“Shower together,” he lifts her arm to mouth at the inside of her elbow. “Sleep naked.” Another kiss at her shoulder, hot breath fanning over her skin. “A  _ lot _ of fucking.”

“Is that so?”

“Very much. We really should get a head start.”

Rey giggles, squirming beneath the blankets. Ben rolls his weight onto her and covers her exposed skin with a flurry of smacking kisses. Eventually they turn searching and heavy and lurid as he works her slowly free from her little cocoon. 

“You still smell like me.” He rubs his cheek onto her collarbone. “It’s—fucking amazing.”

“I like it,” she breathes, arching her back. “I like being scented, Alpha.” The admission costs her nothing—no nervous guilt. It’s incredible, the weightlessness of unconditional love.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” he groans, tugging off the shirt she put on after breakfast, freeing her torso so she’s left in just her cotton underwear. “Want you  _ drenched  _ in it. I just—“

Rey shimmies off her underwear, frantic fingers pulling at his Henley. “What, Alpha?”

“I just want to own you the way you own me,” he huffs, lifting her calf, situating her on her back among the blankets, legs folded up. “You have no clue, Rey.”

She’s about to ask him to tell her everything, but all sense of time is lost when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside her. She’s sore but the wet slick of post-heat alleviates most of it.

“Alpha,” she whines, bucking her hips a little when he slowly forces in more of the length of his fingers, filling her to the knuckle. 

“We’ll go soft,” he draws them out with a squelch. “Slow, for my sweetheart, okay?”

Rey sniffles, nodding.

His cock is proudly hard against his thigh, jerking in time with the way his fingers push in and out of her hole. Slick is starting to pool out of her, and soon she’s a mess of quiet huffs, her hands fisted in the sheets. Ben folds her easily as he likes, pinning her legs, stretching her open wide.

When Rey throws her head back with a comfortable sigh, something in him snaps; Ben groans and ducks his head down between her thighs. 

His tongue is warm and gentle when he licks, spreading her open. It feels like relief; ministrations painfully gentle on her sore body. He’s delicate with it—eyes searching her face for when it gets too much. The attention makes her preen, edging her towards orgasm.

“You taste like honey,” he groans, taking a quick gasp for air before sipping at her juices. “The sweetest cunt, Omega.”

Rey bites down on one of her fingers, muffling ascream. She wants him to  _ devour _ her; he does, mouthing at her and drawing more and more between his lips.

“Do you want to come like this,” he murmurs, lifting his chin, dragging his tongue across his lips. His chin settles on her public bone. Voice soft, he continues, “-or on my knot?”

Rey rolls her eyes back—it would be easy to finish quickly just like this on his broad fingers, but now that she knows every line of his body, the breadth of his cock inside her to the root, the pulse of his knot; she needs it. It’s so much more than she thought it would be, and already she craves it.

“I want your knot,” she mumbles, wiping sweat from her brow. “Please, Alpha.”

“That’s my girl,” he growls, removing his fingers with a  _ pop _ that has her blushing. Rey relishes the praise, arching her back and tilting her hips so he can take her properly.

He settles on his knees, fisting his cock with her slick, letting it bump against her clit to make her squirm. Eventually he takes pity, planting his free arm beside her head, curving over and barely breaching the head inside her.

Rey pants, winding a hand around his wrist beside her. She’s been fucked so thoroughly the past few days that now her body has become so pliant in his wake; he’s able to sink all the way inside her in a single thrust.

It’s  _ everything _ . Her abdomen is ever so slightly distended where he’s buried, the tip of his cock a small bulge underneath her skin. Incomprehensible, what he’s done to her body.

“Mine,” he growls, tracing her bite again, leaning lower to scratch his teeth at it. He doesn’t move—it’s like he doesn’t even want to leave her pussy for a moment.

“Yours,” Rey warbles—it’s different to say without the guise of heat. The word sounds entirely new, no longer drenched in biological need.

Ben curves over her, protective. His hips are flush against hers, and Rey takes the opportunity to wrap her legs around him and squeeze, as if there was space left to condense between them.

He buries his face in the junction of her neck, heavy breaths wafting over her sweat-damp skin. Rey allows her hands to wander of their own accord while he adjusts; up the twitching muscles of his back, the tendons in his neck, winding into his shaggy hair.

She squirms beneath him. Rey wants him to  _ move _ .

“Fuck me,” she whines, tugging at his hair. 

“You,” he huffs, hips stuttering. “Are spoiled.”

She scowls, mouthing at his jaw, precariously close to his mating gland. She’s struck again by their biology; she thinks of all the romance movies ingrained in her soul that end with an Omega carefully choosing their mate, sinking teeth into skin.

“Rey,” he warns, tone agonized.

“Fuck me good,” she taunts, sensing the end of his tolerance. He’s trembling now, on edge, taking deep swallows of her scent. “-And I’ll bite you, Alpha.”

It’s bait; every Alpha longs to hear those worse spill from a potential mate’s mouth. Omega bites can be felt for months after. It means the Alpha in question was a worthy one.

“You want to?” he questions, breathless.

Rey yanks his head back to look into his dilated eyes; he’s not heat drunk, but he’s damn near close.

“Yes.  _ Yes,  _ Ben. Please.”

He doesn’t make her wait. Ben jumps to attention, heavy hands sliding along her body to lift her hips, growl and starts fucking her in earnest. It’s deep, the slide helped by the generous amounts of slick dripping from her hole.

“Is this what you want?” he hisses, lifting her easily in time with his thrusts. “Little omega wants a good fuck?”

She squeals. He’s pressing against her in a delicious way, filling her up. “God, Ben, I’m—“ and then she’s almost crying, feeling the barest hint of a knot rubbing up against her inner wall.

“Gonna give it to you,” he croons. “Knot you up, sweetheart. Pin you down like you need, huh?”

“I’m gonna come,” she moans, tilting her head back. “You’re gonna make me come, Ben.”

It’s luxurious the way he just keeps going, all virile like he’s determined to impress her. The beginnings of his knot are widening inside her; she should be sore and aching but somehow she’s not—Rey wonders if it’s always like this, if she’s been missing out for years or—

Or if it’s just Ben.

Her orgasm takes her by surprise; between heartbeats she slips over the edge with a gasp, toes curling. His knot is as full as it can get. Ben’s last few thrusts locking her into place as he ruts. Each one of them sends her into a spiral of full-body quivers. 

Ben grunts and does  _ something  _ with the angle of her hips. Rey cries out, yanking down his hair so she can bury her little teeth into  _ her  _ Alpha.

It’s bliss, like scraping the essence of sunshine with her canines when she touches his skin. He tastes like ocean air and tree sap, and Rey laps it up like the desert child she is. Ben gurgles in response, and she feels him come inside her, the thick liquid filling her up until it spills around his knot and ruins the sheets.

“Mine,” she mutters imperiously beneath him, finally letting go only when she feels satisfied with how she’s ruined him.

He bobs his head in a loose nod. Ben looks inebriated, eyes unfocused as he adjusts to the bond she’s given him. He doesn’t say anything, apparently speechless, but instead relaxes in a way she’s only seen when he’s asleep—boneless and practically crushing her against the mattress. He purrs obnoxiously loud, eventually lifting his head to lick messy stripes across her glands. It’s nice; like having housebroken a jungle cat.

His knot tugs at her with each movement, a reminder of what they’ve done. What they will do. Who they are. There is a sense of calm that washes over her; she’s spent so long fearing this moment that it hadn’t occurred to her it might also be wonderful.

Ben stretches when his knot finally deflates minutes or hours later. His expression is clear and bright again. He pops his back and levers himself up on one arm to gaze down at her. “I’d say move in with me,” he jokes, tracing the sensitive bite mark he’d given her beneath her jaw, eliciting a shiver. “But you’re pretty much already here. Want to knock down a wall?”

“You were  _ very _ concerned about my security deposit just a few days ago, if I recall.”

He shrugs. “Fuck the deposit. I just want you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abo but make it soft as fuck


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thanks 4 reading. Do you want ur sappy ending with a side of kitchen counter fucking?

The first sign of spring isn’t birds or bees or flower buds creeping in sidewalk cracks, but rather an unmistakable change in Rey’s scent—nothing drastic—but one that envelops stray bits of his own. 

She still carries her regular scent: summer air and hibiscus, but now there’s an undercurrent of bergamot spice and pine sap that is entirely him. It’s a warning; she’ll smell bitter to any unmated Alpha who happens to wander too close. Clearly Omega still, of course, but—

Rey smells like her mate. Rey smells _owned_.

Beebee swats his ankle, ripping him out of his afternoon reverie in the kitchen. It appears the damn cat has yet to forgive him for shipping it off the moment he’d realized Rey was going into heat; this irritates him because he knows for a _fact_ the fluffy little gremlin was treated like royalty when vacationing at Poe’s. Fresh chicken tenders and scrambled eggs for dinner each night is the rumor.

“What?” He sneers down at BeeBee, eyes narrowed. He’s gone through nearly three pairs of socks since dating Rey, as her pet seemed to think Ben was there only as a particularly annoying scratching post rather than Rey’s boyfriend.

Ah. Another word he’s grown quite addicted to. 

They’re a little more than that—souls enmeshed, biology a little too intertwined at this point, but when one removes the dramatics? They argue about movies, hold hands at the grocery store, kiss even with morning breath. He is surprised how much he likes it, each day better than the last. Brushing his teeth with her toothpaste, resting his chin on her head as they wait in line for admission to the art museum, flicking his underwear in her face when they sort clean laundry just to rile her up.

_This is my boyfriend, Ben._ Rey has said this sentence exactly six times, introducing him to various friends over the past few months. He has imprinted on these words, spoken in her fresh, lilting accent—tied them up in a bow and nestled them in his heart. As pleased as his hindbrain is when she squeals his designation in bed, his forebrain has a lot to say about _boyfriend_ and the pleasant implications that come with it.

Bored with him already, the cat trots down the hall into the bedroom, where he’ll inevitably be leaving a hairball on Ben’s pillow. He’s got a half a mind to chase after the creature with a spray bottle, but—

“Does my hair look okay?”

He glances up, heart tittering like it always does when Rey speaks to him. She’s standing in the threshold of the bathroom door, brunette locks freshly curled, nervously twisting the hem of her skirt.

Lately, Ben has gotten in the habit of wondering how he can distill a moment; preserve it forever in resin. 

This is one of them.

He smiles a little too broadly. “I’ll say it again—she already likes you.”

Rey wrinkles her nose. “We don’t know that.”

“My father has probably written a three part opera on your good graces by now.”

“That’s—that’s _work_ stuff.” She trails a little closer to him, still visibly anxious. He knows why, of course—meeting a state senator, especially Leia Organa of progressive platform fame was enough to rattle even the toughest of diplomats. 

To be honest, they’ve been putting this off for a while. It had taken a bit for Ben to adjust to having a relationship with an Omega—uncharted territory, a relationship he finally _wanted_ to work on. Once he’d found his footing, it was so uncomplicated in their little bubble that he’d then been reluctant to break it; eventually after a few weeks of avoiding voicemails, Leia had sent him a text with a date, a time and _our address in case you’ve forgotten by now_ —thus Ben had to admit defeat.

Which brought them to today—dinner at seven, the Organa House, his grandmother’s brisket recipe (a subtle olive branch itself, as Leia knew it was his favorite).

“I want her to like me for me. And for her to like me _for_ you,” Rey continues.

“You’re thinking about this all wrong—she’s going to like you _more_ than she likes me,” he grumbles playfully, tugging at one of her curls. “Trust me. The bar is low.”

Rey is standing between his thighs now, leaning forward with her hands on his chest. Her fingers trail over the fabric of his shirt, searching for non-existent wrinkles. Sitting like this on one of the barstools, he’s still a bit taller than her, but not by much.

“I’d never let her eat you alive,” he soothes, sensing her uncertainty, winding an arm behind her back and tugging her into his personal space. “That’s reserved for me alone.”

“Very suave,” she squirms, swatting at his arm when he pinches her ass. Rey makes a show of rolling her eyes, but her movements are all very deliberate—not really trying to set herself free, just enough to wind him up.

They _do_ have twenty minutes before they need to go.

“Ben,” she admonishes when she catches the look in his eyes, voice a bit too high-pitched. “I know _exactly_ what you’re thinking and—”

“ _Exactly_ what I’m thinking?” His teeth graze the warm junction of her neck, enjoying how she shivers in his arms. “Didn’t know you had such a dirty mind, Rey.”

“If you ruin this dress,” she trails off when he stands, crowding her against the counter. “I’ll kill you, Solo.”

“Interesting,” he murmurs, spinning her so her back is against his chest, tugging at the neckline of the fabric, exposing one freckled shoulder to his lips. “Considering how eager you were for me to ruin you last night.”

“That’s— _oh—_ not—”

The scent of her is malleable, like a barometer for her emotional state. The further he coaxes her to bend over the lip of the granite, the sharper it becomes, until it’s threaded in the air, a tang in his nose that makes his mouth water.

“We should get you a little step stool,” he teases, pulling her dress up her thighs, hooking it at her waist; he’s always struck by the pure magnificence of her toned ass. “So you won’t have to go up on tip-toes.”

“I am above average height for an Omega female, I’ll have you know—”

He’s got her completely bent over now. He tugs her wrists back to cross at the base of her spine. Ben is not ashamed to admit the position gives her less leverage than she likes—he’s learned her body so well that he knows it makes her sweeter, more desperate.

“Very mouthy for someone who begged for my knot less than twenty-four hours ago,” he tuts, squeezing her ass.

He doesn’t _need_ to look to know she’s blushing; she is however, rocking her hips back, straining on her toes. Shameless.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” she mumbles, reticent, mood shaded darker. “I’ll be good.”

He grinds his hips against her ass. Ben will never, ever get enough of _that_. He wants it played on loop in his brain forever. Wants to bury himself in it.

“Why’s that, huh?” He gives her the barest of rewards—a single finger worked inside of her, pressed deep.

“Because—because, _ah—”_ And Ben knows that if he tilted back her head, he’d see her eyes glazed over with obedience already. Knows, because there’s a damp spot in her underwear that he can feel against his slacks.

“We’re going to be late, baby,” he implores. “Use your words.”

Fucking outside of heat is a different animal entirely; while Ben very much appreciated the nearly feral way his little Omega had demanded to be knotted that first night, sick with heat-fever and drenched between her thighs—there is something about _this_ instead that’s less predictable, though matched in intensity.

He likes it when she talks. He likes it when she talks _back_.

“Good Omegas get fucked,” she purrs, arching her back as he slowly finger-fucks her. “That’s what you said last night. Isn’t it? When you came in my pussy?” She tosses her hair and glances up at him over her shoulder, smirking.

That won’t do. That won’t do at all.

He undoes his trousers just enough to free his already-hard cock—Rey whines when it springs free and he leaves her empty, wiggling her hips to entice him. As if she still needed to—Ben is fully aware he’s borderline obsessed with how she moves, how she breathes, her very being. 

He’s a little on edge from the stressful night ahead—some pent up subconscious aggression that his therapist will probably want to analyze later. He wants to make her take the whole thing, if only to watch the way it’ll make her unfold around him. Wants her to _break._

So he doesn’t give her time to adjust—simply pulls down her underwear and wets his cock between her thighs, listening to her mewl when he bumps her clit—before notching in the tip and pushing.

The gasp she makes is almost as incredible as the visceral heat of her cunt. She’s warm and wet and everything to him now, both of them trembling as he slides deep; opening her up to take the entire length.

He feels it when Rey starts to panic, overwhelmed—he usually goes much slower, allows her to set the pace, but he’s _mean_ today _._

“It’s alright,” he grunts, watching as his cock disappears inside her slick hole. “Just be still. You can do it for me.”

“I can,” she warbles, nearly shattered, trying to self-soothe, her hips jerking. “I can, I swear—ahh—”

She cries when he bottoms out—a whimpering sound that makes him harder than he thought possible. Rey is pinned against the kitchen counter, bent over and stuffed full. He feels _decadent._

“My pretty girl,” he murmurs, levering himself up a bit to breathe; they’re drenched in the scent of sex, and he’s dizzy with it. “You did so good.”

Rey doesn’t answer, reduced to little needy sounds. Her cunt is flexing around him, desperate to adjust, driving him wild with the urge to fuck into her.

“My sweet girl is gonna take my cock,” he grunts, driving deep, relishing her squeal. “And then she’s going to sit pretty for me all night, squeezing her cunt so it doesn’t drip out, isn’t she?”

“No,” she protests, squirming as he shallowly thrusts. Her hipbones will be bruised tomorrow, he knows from experience—but Rey has always been fascinated by lovebites and marred skin, telling him how they made her feel so _loved. “_ No, I’ll keep it in, I, _ah,_ promise.”

He kisses her spine, thumb rubbing over the bones in her wrist. “Good girl.”

She sobs when he starts fucking in earnest—building up to it, the raw slide of his cock inside of her heaven. His only rational thought is that Rey will be sore all through dinner—that he’ll get to watch her shift in her chair, trying to get comfortable, and know that it was _him_ who did this to her.

“Ben,” Rey hiccups. “Ben, I wanna come. _Please.”_

He can’t knot her—they don’t have time. They really don’t, he tries to remind the baser parts of himself. They are _on_ schedule.

He can, however, reach between them and find her slick clit with two of his fingers. Rey gasps, immediately clenching so hard his vision nearly whites out—Ben pushes through and moves the pads of his fingers in a rough circle, careful of her delicate skin. 

She wasn’t kidding—Rey _is_ ready to come, slick dripping down tan skin, the bud of her clit high and tight.

“You gonna come for me? Are you going to come all over my cock?”

“Ben,” she huffs, legs jerking the way they always do when she’s close to the edge. “Ben, don’t knot me, remember—”

His brow furrows; he works her clit faster. “I _know,”_ he mutters, thrusting to a tempo that has his insides sparking. “I won’t. I won’t knot you.”

“You can’t,” she urges, a little more cognizant—perhaps he needed to fuck her harder, send her out of her mind with pleasure. If she can still talk, he’s not doing it right. “I don’t— _fuck_ —want to be late.”

“I’m _not.”_

_“_ Your knot?” she whines.

“No, I’m _not_ going _to knot—”_ he thrusts harder, deeper—

Rey squeaks in a particularly endearing way when she comes; her body shudders beneath his, pliant and full. The world fades as she rolls through it in waves. Ben is mesmerized by the curve of her neck, the sharpness of her shoulder blades, the way her fingers clench into fists. She feels so good, and he wants to lap it up.

In fact, he is so blissfully happy that he entirely forgets about his knot.

* * *

“Only,” he checks his watch. “Thirty minutes late.”

Rey glares at him mutinously. He’s beginning to wonder if she’s just started practicing witchcraft in the last half hour and is trying to set him on fire with her eyes alone.

It really doesn’t help, in her defense, that she’s walking funny.

Ben guides her up the stairs to the front door, pausing on the porch to turn to her and fix her hair, wipe her cheek, brush some lint off her lapel.

“Do you think they’ll know?” 

_We stink of sex. A noseless monk would know._ “Of course not.”

“Of course _what?”_ Rey is livid, her scowl poisonous.

_“Wait—_ I meant _not,_ not _knot—“_

The door swings open. Leia is in one of her smarter blouses, long hair pinned up with a pretty heirloom comb.

“There you are!” she crows with delight, pulling her son in for a hug. Rey’s expression softens instantly. “I was beginning to think you were canceling on us, Benjamin.” She pulls back, standing up on tip-toes to ruffle his hair.

“No—just traffic,” the tips of his ears feel hot, and he avoids eye contact with Rey even though he can _feel_ her staring a hole into the back of his head. “Mom, this is my girlfriend, Rey.”

Leia reaches out to grab the younger woman’s hands immediately, leaning back to size her up with a smile. “Han says you are a brilliant mechanic. I’m so glad to finally meet you, darling.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Rey answers shyly. “Ben is—you raised a very nice young man. Thank you.” There is a little half-grin sneaking across her face; when she looks back up at him, Ben realizes she’s making a little joke—one he’s in on. Nice young man indeed.

“And she’s exceedingly generous with her praise,” Leia raises an eyebrow. “Tell me, are you Jewish, dear?”

“ _Mom.”_

Rey’s brow wrinkles, glancing up at Ben who’s already groaning.

“No?” Rey answers slowly, unsure.

“Oh that’s _fine_ —you can always convert. Come in, both of you.”

Rey raises an eyebrow at him, Leia taking her arm and all but dragging her inside to the warmly lit foyer. He overhears his mother inviting Rey to peruse an exhibit of baby photos organized from slightly to most embarrassing. Great start.

_This is a good one,_ Ben thinks to himself, walking through the open door of his childhood home, feeling _whole_ in this place for the first time. _A good moment to remember._

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020 is the year of a lot of weird shit but the weirdest by far is that I actually finished a multi chapter. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on twitter, a place where I’m incapable of shutting up @thevuaslog

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow I WONDER what’s going to happen LOL it’s not like this is PREDICTABLE TRASH FIC


End file.
